Wicked Things
by hot for Cullen
Summary: Bella Swan flirts with danger and becomes involved with Edward Cullen, Miami drug czar; thus, setting the stage for horrors she never knew existed until after their marriage. Guarded around the clock in his Miami mansion, she becomes his prisoner. She devises a desperate plan and escapes. She knows there are only two things that will stop his pursuit of her—her death or his...
1. Chapter 1

I don't own anything!

Prologue

Seventeen year-old Bella Swan walked out of the Miami Mall. Her hands and arms were laden with packages containing new clothing she purchased to spice up her wardrobe for the last weeks of her senior year of high school. After locating her mother's car in the parking lot, she put her shopping bags on the back seat.

Sliding under the steering wheel, she was none the wiser that her life was about to take a turn down a path she would one day desperately regret.

"Drive carefully. Watch the speed limit. Watch out for other drivers," Bella's mother had cautioned when handing over the car keys.

"Mama, I know how to drive," Bella rebutted with her usual defensiveness.

Settling comfortably on the driver's seat, Bella turned on the radio. Tuning to a station she liked, she turned up the volume.

After cranking the car, she glanced to the left and to the right, trying to see around the rear end of vehicles flanking her car. She didn't see anything moving, so she shoved the gear in reverse, planted her foot on the accelerator too hard, and went flying backwards.

The sound of metal crashing against metal rang in her ears even above the blast of music on the car radio. The impact thrust her forward, banging her head on the steering wheel.

A dizzy spell grabbed her, making her vision fuzzy. Not until her car door was jerked open and an angry voice shouted, "Why in the hell don't you watch where you're going," did she start regaining her equilibrium.

"What?" she muttered, touching her hand to her forehead where it hit the steering wheel. She felt a big bump there.

The angry voice softened. "Are you all right?"

"What?" With a sigh of impatience, his hand flew past her and turned off the car radio.

"I asked if you're all right."

"I think I am," she replied, turning to look at him, and seeing a businessman dressed in an expensive suit with a modest tie and a snow-white silk shirt.

"Here, let me have a look." Somewhat impatiently he pulled her hand away from her forehead and touched the lump with his fingers.

"Ouch!" Bella yelled, jerking away when he pressed too hard.

"You probably need to have that x-rayed," he suggested. Bella looked at him, finally twisting in her seat to gain a look at his car.

She slid out of the driver's seat and put her feet on the pavement, silently praying her mother's car hadn't sustained damage or else it might be the end of her driving days.

Still feeling dizzy, she staggered and fell against the car, raising her hand to her forehead. The man reached out to support her.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I think I am," she said, moving toward the back of the car where her car bumper lay against a big dent in the side of the man's car.

A cursory examination of her vehicle showed a broken taillight and a nearly unnoticeable dent on one end of the bumper.

"Oh God, my mother will kill me," she whispered in near tears. "What am I going to do?" The man shook his head.

"I'm going to pull your car forward so I can move mine out of the traffic area and park it." Before Bella could object, he was already sliding under the wheel of her mother's car, cranking it, and driving it forward into the parking space.

"I'm so sorry," Bella said to the man after he moved his car out of the roadway.

"Do you have insurance?" Her face fell in a worried expression before she blurted out anxiously.

"Please don't file a claim against my mom's insurance. I have a little money saved, and if it isn't enough I'll get a job and pay you every penny it takes to fix your car."

"Miss, I'm sure your mother will be so happy to have you home in one piece that the damaged car won't bother her in the least."

"You don't know my mother. She will never let me drive again. I've got to get the tail light fixed before I go home." He looked her over carefully, from head to toe and liked what he saw.

A lazy smile softened his features. "I tell you what—why don't I drive your car and take you somewhere for a drink and we'll decide how best to handle this."

Bella nodded agreeably, eager to do just about anything to keep her mother from learning about her wreck. She didn't think anything was wrong with her going with the man to a restaurant or soda shop, not if he was willing to work with her on a payment plan. Instead, he took her to a disco club where everyone seemed to know him.

"My name is Edward Cullen," he said, reaching his hand across the table after they took a booth in a dimly lit area. Bella took his hand.

"Bella Swan," she said timidly. "I can't stay long. I have to get the tail light fixed." Edward ordered a coke for Bella and a scotch and water for himself.

"How's that bump on your head?" he asked, far more friendly now than he was initially. Bella sent him a timid grin.

"It hurts, but I think it will feel much better if you're willing to let me pay for the damages to your car on a time-payment plan." He grinned as his eyes scanned over her alabaster skin, her full red lips, and her lovely youthful figure with firm breasts.

He shifted his attention to her hair, a glorious shade of auburn red with golden highlights. It hung down upon her slender shoulders in dancing waves and curls.

Edward Cullen decided he wanted Bella Swan and he always got what he wanted. "I think we can work something out," he said, reaching across the table to touch her hand.

She sent him a wide, dazzling smile, her pink lips looking soft, moist and inviting. Girlishly, she grabbed his hand and clung to it.

"Oh, thank you. Mother would never let me drive her car again if she learned I had a wreck. I must get the taillight fixed before I go home."

"I know where you can take it. It'll be repaired quickly, and then you and I can talk about how you plan to pay me," he remarked slyly, hinting at something far more intimate than money.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own anything!

Chapter One

Driving her shiny new car, the combination graduation and birthday present from her parents, Bella drove to the address Edward gave her.

She was now eighteen and felt all grown up from the attention Edward showered upon her. They had met frequently at out of the way places, had talked, laughed, and petted, but nothing more serious.

Then immediately after her birthday, he called her private phone to invite her to his home for the first time. The invitation thrilled her. She drove through a neighbourhood that flaunted million dollar homes with gated entrances.

When she came to the house number she sought she pulled into the driveway and stopped. A stately mansion was secured by a six-foot fence with spikes around the top and boasted a wrought-iron gate with a small gatehouse.

She gazed in awe at the spacious lawns on each side of the long driveway leading up to a huge modern structure of mortar, stone, steel, and plate glass windows that reflected the blue sky.

At the entrance, a guard, with a magazine in his hand, stepped from the small gatehouse. He pushed a button and the gates opened with an electrical whirring sound.

"Miss Swan, drive forward, please. Mr Cullen is expecting you." A bright smile lit Bella's girlish face, and she drove forward with a sense of expectancy.

Awed by such grandeur, she stopped in front of the elegant structure with fascinated interest. She opened the car door, climbing out when she spied Edward coming to greet her.

"Is this all yours?" she blurted out childishly. Looking upward, she saw the outer walls of the house rising to a height of at least three stories. Edward ignored the question, and kissed her.

"Come inside and I'll show you around." His white teeth flashed behind a wide smile and he seemed genuinely happy to see her. They were no longer strangers. They had been together a number of times since their initial meeting. All their visits had been friendly get togethers.

Now, she had just had her eighteenth birthday and was at the legal age of consent. The tour led directly up the spacious winding stairs to Edward's elegantly decorated bedroom with a king size bed and beautiful furnishings. Sliding glass doors opened onto a balcony overlooking green lawns.

Edward reached his arms around Bella and kissed her. His hands moved over her body, taking liberties beyond the timid familiarities exercised over the past few weeks. The age restriction no longer applied and now he would take what he had wanted since meeting her.

"I've been waiting a long time for this day, baby. You know I want you." His eyes drank in her lovely, creamy smooth complexion and her young woman's figure.

Bella smiled, feeling self-important. Her ego became pumped up by Edward's declaration of desire for her. Everything about him thrilled her.

Over the weeks when they had met clandestinely, he had touched and fondled her, causing her to yearn for more. Now a simple nod of her head indicated her consent.

With easy abandon, Edward relieved Bella of her clothing and shed his own. His steel-grey eyes scanned her nakedness, the act shaming and thrilling her at once. His hands seemed to be everywhere. A spark of desire struck like lightning as he walked her backward toward the bed, pushing her down until she lay on her back.

She had been looking forward to this moment. Having Edward fondle and entice her over the weeks she had known him had developed into a strong need that begged for repletion. A thrill of anticipation raced through her even while tension tightened her muscles causing her to recline on the bed like a stiff board.

Edward's hands slid across her breasts and along the curves of Bella's body to send sensuous chills along the column of her spine. He kissed her until her lips burned with his kisses. He trailed a chain of kisses down to one nipple then the other. The kisses didn't stop there. They followed a path down to her stomach and beyond. Bella's heart pounded thunderously to her ears.

This was something all new to her. She tensed.

"Relax, baby. Just relax and enjoy it. I'm going to make you feel so good." He fondled her round breasts to prove it and watched her tiny rosebud nipples rise to delicate pink peaks.

Bella was too breathless to speak. She nodded her head, her eyes beseeching him, not knowing what else to expect, but her body was attuning itself to his intimacy.

"You want this, don't you, baby?" he asked hoarsely, his mouth, hands, and fingers enticing her as never before over the entirety of her shapely body.

Bella's brown eyes stretched open wide, resembling a frightened doe. Her response to Edward's question was a yes that sounded more like a squeak.

"You have a beautiful body," Edward whispered, his voice husky. His hands explored her, touching, feeling, and possessively plundering every inch of her. He slid his fingers up the inside of her thighs. He bent his head again to her lips, while his hand and fingers took liberties with every valley and curve.

Although tense, Bella became aware of the natural response of her body beneath his bold caresses. Stimulated by the fiery intensity of his need, Edward moved between her legs taking a position on top of her. She lay beneath him, still and unmoving. Then he entered her, gently and slowly this first time, finally sending a stabbing thrust to deflower her youth.

"So good, so good," he groaned hoarsely in her ear just before his explosive release. He groaned, jerked, and shuddered, letting his full weight rest upon her. Unable to breathe, Bella pushed her hands against his shoulders, and he rolled off her, totally spent.

He spread out his arms and legs in loose repose with no thought for modesty. Bella pulled the sheet up to cover her, diverting her attention to the ceiling. Bella felt needy.

She had reached a high point that felt like pure ecstasy in the making, and then nothing when Edward finished with her. Was that all there was to it? Wasn't she supposed to experience some sort of pleasure such as he seemed to gain from their sexual encounter?

An unfulfilled longing resided in her lower abdomen. She glanced over at him, feeling slightly abandoned, wishing he would hold her. She scooted over next to him and spread her arm across his chest, snuggling her face up against his neck and cheek.

"Baby, you're wonderful. You made daddy feel really good." Bella winced, wishing he would not use the word _daddy _in relation to their intimacy. Her daddy would kill her if he knew what she had just done. She snuggled up against him, and the throbbing need inside her was slow to dissolve.

Following the day of lost innocence, Bella felt terribly grown up. What few girlfriends she still had seemed young and childish, their example of a night out being a trip to the pizza parlour with the gang. Such pastimes were too tame for Bella now after her induction into more grownup activities with Edward.

She had outgrown her old classmates. Edward took her to posh restaurants and lively nightclubs and discos. He provided her a wardrobe of expensive clothing, which she kept at his home. He gave her money to buy more anytime she wanted.

She grew into their busy nightlife, and since she wasn't twenty-one, she sipped on cokes while Edward and his friends drank scotch, bourbon, gin, or vodka.

Following her graduation from high school, she enrolled and started classes at the local university. Her and Edward's secret affair—which Bella continually hid from her parents by telling them she was going out with friends—went on during her freshman year at the university. When she was ready to start her sophomore year, Edward decided he wanted to marry her.

At about that same time, Charlie Swan, Bella's father, learned that all Bella's nights out hadn't been trips to the library or outings with her girlfriends after all. Through friends who saw them out in public, he learned of his daughter's relationship with Edward Cullen. Bella's parents went crazy with shock, anger, and dismay.

"For God's sake, you have to be out of your mind." Renee Swan cried hysterically. "The man is old enough to be your father, and if that isn't bad enough, he's a known criminal. Do you have any idea what kind of situation you're getting yourself into with this man? Do you know what you're doing?"

"Mom…" Bella started, not with an answer, but with a rebuttal. Before she could say more, her father interrupted.

"Bella, you will not see that man again. I forbid it! Do you understand me? I forbid it!" he said in raised voice and controlled anger. The news of his daughter having an affair with Edward Cullen was the worse news of his life.

"Dad, you can't forbid it. I'm a woman now and have a right to make my own decisions," she quarrelled, exercising an uncommon bravado not familiar to her parents. Charlie hit the ceiling.

"A woman! Good God, you are nothing but a child. A woman would have better sense than to let that criminal bastard compromise her."

"He's not a bastard, and it won't do you any good to call him names," Bella raised her voice. "I have a right to make decisions about my life. I'm doing what I want, and I won't listen to this."

Charlie was well aware of defiance among young people. It had become a sort of juvenile revolution with youngsters of all ages declaring their independence before they were mature enough to take responsibility for their actions. Once normal households had become war zones where parents screamed and fought for control by attempting to exercise parental influence, often in a losing battle with their children. With a kind of feel good mentality among youths, they sought life in the moment, in the fast lane.

Drug use was rampant, as was sexual promiscuity. Youth were in turmoil, but Charlie never expected this kind of behaviour from his daughter who had a proper upbringing. Charlie and Renee raised Bella in a morally prudent environment revolving around church, community, and civic affairs. They submersed her in a life complemented by good upright friends, and set proper standards of behaviour exemplified by their own conduct. They never counted on outer influences compromising everything taught her at home.

Now, tormented by Bella's association with Edward Cullen, Charlie looked back and wondered where he and Renee went wrong. Perhaps they had protected Bella too much, instead of acquainting her with the ills of a sick society filled with drugs, perverse sex, murder, rape, and a hoard of crimes against mankind.

Knowing Bella was innocent prey to a man like Edward Cullen, Charlie felt the urge to kill him for destroying his child's innocence.

"As God is my witness, Bella," Charlie exploded, a rarity for his commonly dignified manner, "I'll damn well lock you in your room if I have to rather than see you ruin your life with some low-life criminal. Everybody in the justice system knows he runs the drug trade in Miami. He's involved with every lowlife who has connections to the drug cartel out of Columbia."

"That's a lie! You're saying that because you don't want me to see him," she argued.

"Do you think I've defended criminals in the courtroom all these years with blinders on? The State Attorney's office has been seeking evidence on Edward Cullen for several months now."

"Then why haven't they arrested him?" Bella countered.

"Oh they will, mark my word, just as soon as they get enough evidence to make the charges stick. He's going down sooner or later, and you can count on that."

"I don't believe any of this. You would say anything to break us up. You're just saying these things about Edward because you don't want me to see him."

"What in the hell will it take to get through that thick skull of yours? Bella, Edward Cullen is a known criminal. He's an evil and dangerous man." Bella's voice rose again.

"I don't believe it! I've never seen him involved in anything connected with drugs." Charlie guffawed with disgust.

"Did you believe he would advertise his illegal dealings? Of course, you don't see anything suspicious or illegal. Neither does anyone else or the state attorney would have squashed his organization already." Bella pursed her lips, tilting her head at a disgusted angle, and stared defiantly from the corner of her eyes at nothing in particular.

"Let me tell you a horror story about Cullen. A while back, I represented a man called Robert Pat, who was one of the cartel's front men. The police charged him with murdering an innocent man who accidentally overheard a conversation about a shipment of drugs. Robert killed the man to silence him. When the trial turned sour, Cullen feared Robert might make a deal with the prosecutor's office to turn state's evidence against him. Robert was found hung in his cell."

"Then it was someone else. Edward would never do anything like you're suggesting," she stated in bitter defiance.

"No, he wouldn't do something like that directly, but he delegates. It's his job to keep the drug market running smoothly and keep the players out of jail. He has at least a fifth of the police department on his payroll. Drug marketing is big business, Bella, and Edward Cullen is Colombia's kingpin, the liaison between them and drug distribution. Cullen will go down eventually and he'll destroy you with him. Can't you see that I'm trying to protect you?" Raising her chin defiantly, Bella stated adamantly.

"Dad, I know you and mom mean well, and I don't want to hurt either of you, but I love him. I can't give him up, and I won't give him up."

"Bella, I swear I'll lock you in your room before I'll see you ruin your life on a man like Edward Cullen," Charlie declared, his face bright red with anger as he hovered threateningly above his daughter, restraining himself from actually hitting her for the first time in his life.

"It would be a tragic mistake for you to try such a thing, Dad. If you make me choose, I'll leave here and go live with Edward." Renee came to her feet, her face splotched red. She reached out and slashed her hand across Bella's cheek.

"How can you be such an idiot? Your father is an attorney and has defended enough criminals that he knows what he's talking about. You need to listen to him. Even I know what Edward Cullen is. He'll use you until he tires of you and then you'll be found in some lake or dump somewhere. Is that what you want?"

Touching her hand to her stinging cheek, Bella jumped up from her chair and raced from the room.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own anything!

Chapter Two

A stormy Saturday morning blew in with heavy pouring rain. Thunder and lightning boomed and sliced through the atmosphere. Bella took advantage of the storm to sleep late.

With her energy divided between college classes, studying, and time spent with Edward, she was exhausted most the time.

Last night, she made every excuse to avoid another late night out with him and his associates and their wives, but he wouldn't hear of it. Instead, he demanded she give up her classes.

"You won't need college classes after you marry me," he stated offhandedly. His subtlety didn't escape her.

"Is that supposed to be a proposal?" She inquired with a saucy tilt to her head.

"If it were, would you say yes and give up your classes?"

"I like the idea of getting an education. Why should I give it up?"

"Because when you become my wife, you belong to me and I don't want you involved in other activities that take you away from me." Edward's possessiveness thrilled her, making her feel extremely special and important in his life. It made her feel wanted and cared for by him.

She thought of all the hard work spent in keeping up with her studies, and privately agreed that she didn't need to continue her education. If she married Edward an education wouldn't benefit her anyway since he wouldn't want her to work.

A clap of thunder cut through her restful sleep, causing her to turn over and glance at the clock. Ten o'clock. God, she was certain she could sleep the whole day through if she didn't have class assignments.

She recalled Edward's proposal, what he said about giving up her college courses. With a groan, of indecision, she rolled over and went back to sleep for another couple of hours.

"Bells, darling, it's nearly noon. Aren't you going to get up? You're not sick are you?" Renee asked, all too aware of the busy pace her daughter had been keeping with classes, assignments, and Edward Cullen.

"Ohhhh," she groaned, rubbing her eyes, "I'd like to sleep all day."

"Then why don't you, darling? You look tired. I'll bring some juice and toast up to you in a little while."

"No, I think I'd better get up." She pushed herself to a sitting position, and slung her legs off the side of the bed.

Like a zombie, she slid her feet heavily across the floor to the bathroom. Half asleep, she went through all the motions routinely followed for the past several years, showering, brushing her teeth, putting on makeup, combing her hair, and then dressing for the day. Finally satisfied with her image in the mirror, she went downstairs where her father finished his lunch and lingered over a cup of coffee.

"Sweetheart, you look tired," Charlie said, glancing up as she came into the breakfast room. He and Renee both had made concessions in their feelings about Bella seeing Cullen.

They feared she might follow through on her threat to move in with him unless they took a tolerant position. They loved her and wanted to protect her, but their frustration at not being able to do so caused a low undercurrent of anger at her defiance.

Bella yawned, covering her mouth while she pulled out a chair across from her father.

"Just trying to wake up," she said. The truth was that she was tormented by the prospect of telling her parents that Edward proposed to her. Perhaps she would wait until dinnertime.

Bella rushed through her assignments so she could linger over dinner with her parents. She waited half way through the meal before gaining the nerve to break the news about Edward's proposal. She tensed in readiness for another unpleasant scene.

"Mom, Dad, I have something to tell you," she said, lowering her head in a thoughtful pose. Charlie and Renee glanced at each other, looking suddenly anxious. They gazed quietly at Bella, waiting for the shattering news neither expected.

Perhaps her nerves were acting up, Bella thought, but she could swear the air crackled with electrical currents. Best to get right to the point, she thought. She blurted out her news in one long breath.

"Edward asked me to marry him." Renee dropped her fork. It clattered against the plate. Charlie's fork stopped midway to his mouth. He sat frozen in that position for several seconds in pure shock while he stared non blinking at Bella's young face. Renee's mouth flew open and she gasped,

"Oh my God!" Charlie's hand fell, and the fork hit the edge of the plate, bounced on the table, and fell to the floor.

"No, Bella. You can't do this." His unusually quiet voice was a plea as the words quivered in his throat. He swallowed spasmodically, his Adam's apple bobbing from the effort.

"Dad, I love you," she said persuasively, "and I would never do anything intentionally to hurt you or mama, but this is my life. This is what I want to do with it. I want to be Edward's wife. You have to try to understand."

"Dear God, Bella, what is wrong with you?" Renee cried. "Charlie, please talk some sense into her?" Before Charlie could say anything, Renee continued in a desperate plea. "Why are you doing this, Bells? Why, for God's sake, do you want to ruin your life? There will be other men, young men your own age." Sobbing, she added, "You can't do this. You can't!"

"Mama, why can't I make you and Dad understand how I feel? Can't you understand this is my life, not yours? I don't want anyone else except Edward. I beg you to understand. Your blessings are important to me."

"Our blessings! Good God, do you seriously think we could ever offer our blessings for you to marry a criminal?" Charlie's emotional control, learned from years of being at the centre of public observation in the courtroom, was steadfast for the moment.

"When?" He asked solemnly, realizing the futility in attempting to argue the point. His daughter's determination defied everything he might say to her against her decision.

"We haven't decided yet. I'd like to finish my sophomore year first."

"And your junior and senior years—what about those?" Renee cried heartbrokenly.

"Edward said he wants me to give up my classes after we're married." She hung her head, feeling shame now when considering how much her education meant to both her parents. They had never doubted she would complete college. She had even thought at one time of becoming a lawyer like her father, but that would be out now if she gave up college.

"Bells, I beg you not to do this? You're going to destroy your life if you marry that man." Her mother swallowed salty tears, her shoulders slumping like an old woman's instead of the elegant forty-five year old lady she actually was.

"I'm sorry, mom. I never meant to hurt either of you," she whispered with a guilty look.

The lovely dinner was ruined. Charlie pushed his plate back, unable to eat another bite. Renee's whole body seemed to cave in, as if swallowed by the chair in which she sat. Wringing her hands nervously, she shook her head back and forth, her eyes suddenly tired and dazed.

Bella stared at her food, her appetite gone like her father's was. _I've broken their hearts_, she thought, suddenly feeling undeserving of all they had done for her. Learning of her affair with Edward was shock enough for them, but hearing of her plan to marry him must surely feel like downright betrayal.

Quietly, she got up and left the table. Charlie and Renee took every opportunity in the coming days to talk Bella out of making the worst mistake of her life. They begged, pleaded, implored, demanded and threatened. Through it all, Bella stood her ground, declaring,

"I'm not going to listen to any more of your arguments, so you might as well stop them." Tortured by the very idea of his daughter married to a man like Edward Cullen, Charlie went into Bella's room when she wasn't home, and rifled through her nightstand drawer until he found Edward Cullen's phone number. Charlie called him.

Charlie and Edward met early one morning at a small diner that was on the way to Charlie's office. Both drove into the parking lot only a minute apart. They exited their cars simultaneously. Stepping forward, both men moved toward the front of their vehicles. Silently, they sized each other up. Edward spoke first.

"Swan, I sure as hell hope you have a good reason for dragging me out here. What can I do for you?"

"I'll cut to the chase, Cullen. I'm here to ask you to stop seeing my daughter." Charlie didn't know what reaction to expect. He knew enough about Edward Cullen to know he was not especially versed in PR skills. His power lay in command and control, and the expertise to get things done quickly and stealthily so no trails would lead back to him.

Edward chuckled arrogantly. "What's wrong, Swan? Did you fail to convince Bella to break off with me, and now hope to convince me to do the deed myself?"

"Cullen you and I both know that a marriage between my daughter and a man your age will never work." Edward leaned against the hood of the car. A sickening grin spread across his face.

"I know that it _will _work as long as I want it to," he answered with implied insinuations. Charlie sucked in a deep breath of air.

"I just hoped you would be honourable enough to do the right thing." Edward laughed, the sound boiling out of his throat jeeringly.

He reached in his front shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Pulling one from the pack, he stuck it between his lips, put the pack back in his pocket, and then searched his pants pockets for his lighter.

Staring Charlie in the eyes, he flicked the lighter and put the flame to the end of the cigarette, taking all the time in the world before voicing his answer. Finally, after taking a big puff of his cigarette and blowing the smoke in Charlie's face, Edward replied, chuckling.

"I thought I was doing the right thing. I'm making an honest woman out of her." Blood rushed to Charlie's face. He seethed inside, but he held his temper.

"What will it take, Cullen, to get you to leave my daughter alone?"

"You don't have what it takes to get me to do anything, Swan. I never liked you in or out of the courtroom, and frankly, I like you even less now for wasting my time."

"She's my daughter, Cullen. You must have plenty of women friends. Why do you need Bella?" Edward laughed throatily.

"I like her in bed. Does that answer your question, _Mr Swan_?" He grinned offensively. Charlie cringed internally at Cullen's crude remark. Blood pumped up to his face in scalding hot disgust. He sucked in his breath, and then let it out slowly, doing his damnedest not to let Cullen provoke him. It took all his will power to keep control.

"I'd appreciate a show of respect," he said curtly through partly clenched lips.

"Let's get something straight, future father-in-law. I want your daughter and I am going to marry her—simple as that. If you know what's best for you, you'll just back off and leave the two of us alone." He looked Charlie in the eyes with a mercury stare that was very serious now.

Such words coming from a man like Edward Cullen was a threat. A strange sensation of caution and dread slid over Charlie when he realized what a depraved and perverted individual Cullen truly was.

"I'll pay you. I'll pay whatever you ask to break off with my daughter." Edward threw back his head and laughed.

"Do you think I need your money? Swan, when I am through with her, I will serve her up to you on a platter. In the meantime, you're wasting my time."

Charlie could feel the heat in his face. Nothing would stop this man outside a bullet.

"She's just a kid, Cullen. You have to be nearly the same age as me. You are old enough to be her father. In another ten years, you will be an old man, and she will still be a young woman. Surely, you see the irony in marrying someone young enough to be your daughter."

"You miss the point, Swan. That's what makes her so interesting," he grinned through a disgusting twist of his lips. Charlie reacted.

All his carefully tended control was gone. He swung a hard fist at Edward, hitting his jaw, and then following with a punch to his lip.

Thrown off balance, Cullen spun awkwardly, reaching out to grab hold of the car in an effort to keep from sprawling like a sack of potatoes on the pavement. Charlie clinched his fist to keep from hitting him again.

"You sick bastard, I'll not rest until you're behind bars for your illegal activities. I'll expose you if it's the last thing I ever do." Edward rubbed his jaw and touched a swollen lip that oozed with blood. He flung aside the cigarette, its red tip searing his fingers. His eyes were dark with rage, but his words were deadly quiet as he regained his balance and locked gazes with Charlie.

"It will likely _be _the last thing you ever do, you stupid son of a bitch. You will pay for this, Swan. If you attempt to come up against me, I'll see you in hell!"

"There's ways to stop people like you," Charlie threatened. In the back of his mind, a slight nudge warned him that his threats posed danger for him. Edward leaned heavily toward him, his face blood red with rage.

"You stupid bastard, you have no idea who you're dealing with. You've just signed your death warrant, old man!" Charlie's strength crumbled where he stood, and he backed toward his car. Pulling the door open, he slid behind the wheel.

Never would he take Cullen's threat lightly. The man's history spoke for itself. He made people disappear, and nothing was beyond his sick capability.

Pure terror washed over Charlie. Turning the key in the ignition, he backed up, and then steered the car out to the street, wishing all the while he and his family never had to lay eyes on Edward Cullen again.

Outside of simply killing him, Charlie was determined to do what he could to put Cullen out of commission. He knew he was putting his life on the line, but he could never live with himself to sit idly by and do nothing when his daughter's future was at peril.

Having represented enough criminals through the court system to know better than take a threat lightly, Charlie knew the risks of what he planned. To pursue attempts against Edward to bring him to justice would present a direct challenge.

He had no doubt that Cullen would not hesitate to follow through with the threat he made if he was provoked. Charlie knew the risks of what he was up against, but his child meant too much to him to stand by and do nothing while she made the biggest mistake of her life. If it were in his power, he would put Edward Cullen behind bars where he belonged.


	4. Chapter 4

I don't own anything!

Chapter Three

Charlie hired a private investigator to tail Cullen. Then he began putting his estate in order, something he'd been meaning to do for some time. He knew better than take Cullen's threat lightly. Having dealt with criminals throughout his career, he knew how criminal minds worked. He also knew they could be deadly foes if provoked.

Charlie's vacation time arrived, and instead of taking a cruise as previously planned, he and Renee flew to Montana to the little town where his old college chum, James Laurant, resided and managed the local bank.

He set up a generous savings account for Bella, putting cash and necessary documents in a safety deposit box. When he and Renee returned home, Charlie put another large sum of money in Bella's name at his bank and stuffed a safety deposit box with cash, the total sum enough for her to live on comfortably for years.

He made Carlisle Mason, Bella's godfather, executor of his estate, and then informed his daughter of the plans put in place for her. Bella was amused.

"That why you and mom went to Montana? Dad, I'm touched that you're thinking of my welfare, but you're being ridiculous. What makes you think I'll need all this financial assistance eventually?"

"Bella, I've decided it's no use to try and convince you of the kind of man Edward Cullen is. He's a dangerous man who is capable of about any crime you can imagine, and if you ever became a threat to him, he would snuff out your life in a minute. One day you'll come to know that what I'm telling you is true. Your refusal to consider our advice leaves your mother and me desperate to protect you as best we can. We've done the only thing we know to do. We've set aside enough money so you'll never want for anything when this mockery of a relationship turns sour, and I guarantee it will. The money will enable you sufficient funds to live on when the time comes." Bella rolled her eyes, and made a scoffing sound.

"This is demoralizing. I think you and Mom are losing your minds or becoming paranoiac. I've seen nothing in Edward's character to earn such distrust." _More sweet delusion_, Charlie thought.

"In the small town in Montana where we took you on your tenth birthday, my old friend, James Laurant, will advise you on investments when the time comes. Take these safety-deposit box keys and never, under any circumstance tell Cullen about them. Promise me, Bella."

Bella laughed, not intending any disrespect, but it reminded Charlie of how Cullen had laughed at him while serving up taunts of contempt. He could only shake his head in exasperation at his daughter's innocent trust of one of the most ruthless and malevolent men in Miami, Florida.

"Okay, Dad, I promise you I will put the keys in a safe place and never tell Edward about them. You've presented your case against Edward, and I find him _not guilty_, so do us both a favour and drop it."

"All I ask is that you avoid being too overly trusting, Bella. It's not a good trait to have with anyone, especially with a man like Edward Cullen. Be a little wary, sweetheart. You're still too young to understand the implications I've tried to impress upon you." Bella threw up her hands and jumped to her feet.

"All right!" she screamed. "You're driving me crazy. For God's sake, Dad, what is it you want of me?" Charlie sighed in exasperation.

"I want you to be safe and happy, honey. That's all I've ever wanted."

She scrunched up her face in puzzlement as something crossed her mind.

"Has Edward said something to upset you?"

"No," he said, lying outright. He didn't want his daughter running interference for him. That would impose even greater danger for them.

"Rest assured, Dad, I'll do as you ask with the keys if that will make you happy." Charlie nodded. He had done all he knew to do. The rest was up to her. He sighed, and left her standing there while he rushed to his study to hide the pain behind his moist eyes.

Charlie Swan began compiling what little information the private detective brought him. The stack grew thicker over time, but when Charlie reviewed it, piece by piece, not much was usable against Edward in a court of law.

It seemed the man resided behind a protective glass wall where no one could touch him. Finally, however, he got the big break he had been waiting for. The detective brought him pictures of Edward having lunch with one of the local judges, and passing a thick envelope across the table to the Honourable Mike Newton. Charlie felt hopeful.

At least he had a name attached to the justice system that the state attorney would find worthy of investigation. Charlie made extra copies and put them in his safety deposit box. He wavered between going to the police and going directly to Edward. He decided on the latter.

His goal was to rescue his daughter before they were married. He hoped to use what he had as bargaining power. Edward agreed to meet with Charlie in a parking lot he suggested. Charlie went over and over his plan, but when he presented the pictures to Edward, the man wasn't the least intimidated. Instead, he was angry as hell. He grabbed Charlie by the shirtfront and demanded he back off.

He then proceeded to rip the pictures into tiny bits, watching them sail off in the wind across the parking lot.

"Swan, I'm not a man to waste time with fools like you. This is your only warning. Get off my fucking back!" Then more calmly and succinctly, he stated, "I want all the negatives and all the copies you have of those photographs, along with anything else you've gathered. I also want the name of the person responsible for collecting them. If I don't get them, your beautiful daughter might step off the curb into an oncoming car, or something equally dramatic."

A contemptuous grin curved at the corners of his mouth when he saw Swan's expression. It reflected the bitter taste of bile and fear. Charlie's heart stopped beating in his chest for what seemed like minutes. He never considered the possibility Bella might be in any immediate danger, having instead, taken Edward's recent threat against himself as the area for concern.

Now, however, the son of a bitch had struck home to the core. He had threatened Bella, and it was all that was necessary to defeat Charlie. This meeting became a finale to any further attempts of retribution against Cullen.

Edward knew he had won the battle. He could smell Charlie's fear. The man was weaker than he first thought, stronger than hell as a criminal attorney, but a piece of shit when threat hung over him.

"Here's what you're going to do, Swan," Edward commanded. "You're going to give me all the pictures and the negatives. I also want the name of your private dick."

The next day, Charlie met Edward in the same parking lot. He brought the pictures and negatives taken from his safe deposit box, and turned them over to Edward, along with a manila folder of documents. Charlie refused to give him the name of the private investigator.

In the next few days that followed, Charlie sensed he was being tailed. One car in particular seemed to be close on his bumper wherever he went. Unfortunately, his discovery of the tail came after he made a trip to the investigator to cancel the investigation and warn him of possible retaliation from Edward.

"Be careful, Yorkie. I didn't give him your name, but that offers no guarantee of protection. The man is evil and dangerous. If he sees you as a threat, well…" There was no need to finish his thought.

Seven days later, after Edward discovered the name and location of the private investigator, Erik Yorkie, someone found the man's body in an alley. The files in his office were dumped and scattered all over the floor, and any information bearing Edward's name disappeared.

An autopsy on Yorkie showed he died of a drug overdose. The day after the discovery of Yorkie's body, Charlie and Renee Swan were driving to their favourite restaurant for lunch and died in a freak car accident.

A huge tractor-trailer ploughed into the back of their car at a stop light literally pulverizing the car and the occupants within. The driver fled the scene.

The tractor-trailer was untraceable because the license plate was missing, there was no registered owner, and no vehicle identification number found on the rig.

Accidental death was what the medical examiner wrote on Charlie and Renee's death certificates. Their deaths would mark new directions in Bella's life.

Bella came down the stairs rubbing her eyes. Her hair was tousled and disorderly. Her usual careful attendance to her personal appearance had been totally ignored after the housekeeper awakened her from a late mid-morning sleep with the announcement that the police were downstairs asking for her.

Quickly pulling on a long bathrobe, she trudged tiredly downstairs trying to shake off the fatigue. She was with Edward until after two in the morning, and could have slept until noon if left undisturbed.

"What's wrong?" she asked immediately upon seeing two policemen standing in the foyer. "Why are you here?" Then turning toward the housekeeper, she asked, "Where's Mama?"

"Why don't we go in the living room so you can sit down," one of the officers suggested, suddenly looking larger than life to Bella. The first tingly fear raced along her spine.

Without saying more, she turned and went to the spacious living room, and lowered herself to the chair her father usually sat in. She did not realize it until she stuck out her hand to offer the two policemen seats that she was shaking all over. Her hand trembled badly. She pulled it back and clasped her fingers together in her lap. The housekeeper stood inconspicuously nearby.

Both policemen sat down on the sofa across from her, staring at her much too long before they spoke. They looked terribly ill at ease. Finally, the shorter of the two leaned forward and questioned,

"Miss Swan, are you the daughter of Charlie and Renee Swan?" Bella sent them a sharp questioning look. Tingly fear escalated with prickly currents all through her, and she sat up a little straighter. Her attention was on alert, completely focused now.

"Yes, I am their daughter. Why do you ask?" Her voice was shaky and her lips quivered. She felt all strength flow from her body. Police officers did not come knocking on one's door unless something had happened. She grabbed the chair arms with her hands and braced herself.

"Miss Swan, we're sorry to inform you, but your parents were in an accident."

She said nothing, just looked at them, waiting, thinking they might say more, might explain. Finally, the word accident began to sink in slowly.

"An accident, you say?" She pushed herself from the chair to her feet, balancing herself by easing behind the chair and grabbing onto it for support. She stared at the men.

"Where are they? Are they all right? What hospital are they in? I have to get dressed and go to them." She started toward the door, her knees precariously unstable, and both police officers came to their feet. One reached out and took her arm.

"Miss Swan. They are not at the hospital. It's worse than that." She froze. Her face froze. Then like a piece of ice cracking from a gigantic force, her expression became a shattered reflection of pain. Her knees buckled and she collapsed.

"No…" she whispered. One policeman shot an arm about her waist, stopping her downward plunge before she collapsed entirely upon the carpeted floor. He eased her back to the sofa where she slumped as though her bones were jelly. Her eyes pooled with moisture. Her anguish burst like a thunderstorm in loud sobs.

Grief and thoughts poured through her mind. She thought about the warnings from her father about Edward, and the financial considerations he took on her behalf. She had laughed at him.

Yet, now it occurred to her, her father had anticipated death when he made those financial provisions for her. Doubts churned involuntarily like an incomplete puzzle with missing pieces. She mentally fought against believing the nagging suspicion that her parents' deaths might be more than a mere accident. _Was Edward responsible for her parents' deaths?_

One of the policemen began explaining about the accident, mostly speculating.

"The tractor trailer couldn't stop in time. The brakes might have gone out. We'll know after an inspection is made." The explanation should have been reassuring, even if painful, for it would seem to clear Edward of any involvement. However, she could not let go of the remembered warnings her father gave her.

"What about the driver? Was he charged?" she muttered through her weeping.

"He left the scene of the accident and hasn't been found yet. But don't worry, we'll find him." The two policemen prepared to leave.

"Miss, is there anything we can do for you?" the tallest one asked while glancing toward the doorway where the housekeeper stood.

Bella was too dazed to answer, and was only vaguely aware they spoke to the housekeeper before they left. Tears boiled up and spilled down Bella's face in sheets, until a kind of numbness took over. She sat staring off in space, remembering her mom and dad's faces, recalling events in their lives as she was growing up; memories that could never take their place. They were gone, and she was alone. The housekeeper sat with her.

"Will you eat or drink something?" she asked, knowing Bella needed to keep up her energy for what lay ahead the next few days.

"No, I can't eat. I don't know what to do," she cried. "What am I going to do?" She had not even considered calling Edward thus far, put off by doubts resting in her mind like a bad seed.

"I need to call Uncle Carlisle." Blowing her nose, and then sniffing audibly, she dialled Carlisle's number, held the phone to her ear as more tears strained through her lashes. "Uncle Carlisle," she said and broke into sobs.

"Bella, is that you?"

"Uncle Carlisle, it's me. There has been an accident. Mama and Dad were in an accident."

"Are they all right?" he asked, his voice anxious.

"They… they didn't make it."

"Blessed saints! Bella, I will be there in a little while. Just be strong, honey. I'll be there in a few minutes." When she hung up the phone, it dawned upon her how much she needed someone to hold her, comfort her, and she thought of Edward.

Perhaps she should call him. On second thought, she decided it best to wait until her Godfather, Carlisle Mason, was not with her. Some inner voice told her to keep her relationship to Carlisle a secret from Edward.

She would call him later. Right now, she needed her Uncle Carlisle to help her handle things and get her through the days ahead. It would be days later, before Bella learned about the absence of a registration or vehicle identification number on the tractor-trailer.

The implication, of course, was an untraceable owner through vehicular records. It would prompt some real soul searching. She would mentally explore several considerations, looking for plausible excuses to confirm Edward's innocence rather than any involvement in her parents' deaths. Still, a niggling doubt kept touching her thoughts like random little electrical currents.

Much later that night, Edward called Bella. She was supposed to have met him at seven o'clock that evening. When the phone rang and she looked at the clock, it was nine o'clock.

"Bella, are you all right?" It was the first thing that came from his mouth. His question hit Bella like a tell-tale clue. How could he possibly have learned already what had happened to her parents?

His question seemed terribly suspicious. She wanted to ask him why she should not be all right just to see what he would say, but she didn't. Yet, the question was not Edward's customary greeting when she was late for an outing with him.

On previous occasions when she was late, he exuded anger, often becoming verbally abusive. There was none of that anger or abuse now. She knew she had to get hold of herself.

She was reading something, the worst perhaps, into everything Edward said or did not say. With enough to deal with already, she decided she need not borrow trouble. Tearfully, she told Edward about her parents' deaths.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said in a monotone, not bothering to offer further condolences. Bella noticed he wasn't surprised. Still, the police did say it was an accident, and every nerve inside her wanted it to be so. She loved Edward, but how could she continue loving him if she suspected him of taking part in her parents' deaths?

Edward stayed at Bella's side through the funeral. He poured on compassion and understanding in huge doses. No one was more caring than he was, anticipating her needs and looking after her as though she were helpless.

She felt nurtured beneath his supportive care, and the seeds of doubt that initially seized her soon faded. She grew completely dependent upon Edward, who seemed pleased at her reliance upon him.

Carlisle kept a low profile in the background throughout the funeral service. Charlie had made a point of informing him of the situation between Bella and Edward Cullen, and for all practical purposes, even without evidence, he believed the man was probably responsible for Charlie and Renee's deaths.

Since Carlisle was the trustee of the Swan estate, he played the role of an old friend come to pay his respects. He wanted no introduction to, or any association with Edward Cullen.

Five days after the funerals, using Bella's grief over her parents' deaths, Edward talked her into an early marriage. They were married quietly in a civil ceremony that would require no waiting.

The marriage presented a dramatic turning point in Bella's life. With her parents gone, she told Carlisle to liquidate her father's estate and invest the proceeds.

Taking what personal items she wanted to keep, she moved into Edward's mansion.


	5. Chapter 5

_I don't own anything!_

_Chapter Four_

_Five Years Later_

Bella and Edward sat on opposite sides of the car seat as the limousine eased up the drive and came to a stop at the front door of his stately home. Neither had spoken a word since leaving the nightclub, and a tension filled the silence between them.

Bella was moody, feeling disillusioned and disgusted with the two couples Edward wined and dined all evening. One of the men smoked big cigars whose scent clung to her clothing and nostrils; the other one cursed continuously and was unable to say a single sentence without using the four-letter word she detested.

The women, while polite enough at the beginning of the evening, drank like fish and were stumbling drunk before the night ended. Without realizing it, Bella turned up her nose and rolled her eyes several times at such objectionable manners and crude behaviours, never considering that Edward would find her haughty manner more inappropriate than that of his crass friends. She should have known better.

Hadn't she already suffered Edward's cruelty and abuse in a hundred different ways? She had become nearly passive around him, not wanting to invite his disfavour. Now, unwittingly, she had done just that. No sooner were they inside the door at home, than Edward confronted Bella where they stood on the spacious marble foyer.

"Baby, do you find my friends distasteful?" Edward asked, standing at arm's length and running his hands lightly up and down Bella's upper arms while he studied her with lascivious intent.

His dark green eyes raked her from head to toe and back again, possessively assessing her as one might a piece of property. His voice sounded calm, giving no apparent indication of underlying hostility. A half grin squeezed from one corner of his lips.

Bella should have known not to trust his offhanded manner. He had done the same thing numerous times previously, inviting her negative responses, and then abusively retaliating.

His mien was all a ploy to deceive, a snake curling in readiness to strike. The light touch of Edward's hands on her arms held no hint of confrontation, giving her the impression she could speak freely.

"I find your friends lacking in intelligence and social tact," she replied honestly, her long slender neck and raised chin displaying a haughty grace.

Edward's forehead wrinkled and his eyes darkened. He touched Bella's cheek, sliding his fingers down to her silky white throat where he caressed the white skin above the little blue veins.

"Lacking in intelligence…" A smile toyed with his lips, and then he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

The sound made Bella's stomach lurch. Bella looked at him sharply, never suspecting that behind his attitude lay a deadly anger he had nursed all evening against her. She was slow to learn that Edward worked at keeping his emotions hidden, believing he mastered more control over others when he exhibited icy control of self.

"Hummm… You know, baby, you may be right," he said, still laughing. The glint in his eyes changed first, turning to cold steel as his laughter spun down to an acrid snort. "They may be sons of bitches for all I care, but when we invite anyone out for dinner, I expect you to act like the perfect hostess. You represent me, baby, not those frivolous opinions you have."

"Edward, how can you expect me to associate with such disgusting people?" she implored. He turned his back on her, taking a deep breath. He was seething, the great quantities of alcohol drunk during the evening fuelling instant rage that echoed in the timbre of his voice. He spun about to face her.

"You associate with them because I damn well say so! Do you think you're better than they are, you stupid little bitch?" His crude manner was not a shock, but his blunt sarcasm stung. Lately, his attitude toward Bella had worsened daily until he showed pure contempt for her most of the time.

Drinking merely intensified his venomous nature. Alcohol was an addiction with Edward; he drank Bloody Marys in the morning, beer in the afternoon, finishing the day with wine, champagne or scotch, often topping his evening with brandy. He needed only the mildest provocation from Bella to turn abusive with verbal put-downs complemented by violent slaps across her face.

He once locked her in their room for two days without food, and the list of abuses started increasing every time Edward found a reason, whether real or imagined. She usually stepped lightly around him to avoid another abusive attack on her, but tonight she had been so incensed she could not hold her tongue.

Edward had never been what Bella called adorable, but at least he treated her respectfully in the beginning. Now, his contempt replaced any decent feelings he once had for her. She was sure his heavy drinking was due in part to problems with his organization, and he found sadistic relief through taking his frustrations out on her.

He stayed angry at the world, and he used her as his scapegoat. Bella feared he might be losing his mind from the excess of alcohol he consumed.

"Edward, you know I usually don't complain, but the men's vulgar jokes and boorish manners are not suitable for mixed company," she said softly. "Are the women supposed to sit there pretending to enjoy the men's crude jokes and remarks and their intimate gropes in public? If you respect me, you would caution them against their vulgarity when I'm present."

With saliva oozing from the corners of his mouth, Edward sneered contemptuously at Bella's remark. His hand touched her throat, his fingers gliding about the porcelain skin, following the stream of little blue veins that seemed to intrigue him. His hand and fingers spread out all at once around her neck, grasping it so tightly her face turned crimson and her breath grew ragged.

"How did you get so goddamned stupid? If I respected you, I might not even want you in the company of those crazy bastards. However, the truth is, darling; the only thing I respect about you is what you have between your legs. Haven't you learned yet what role you play in my life, Bella?" His fingers tightened on her throat. She grabbed his hand, attempting to loosen his strangling hold.

"Edward, please stop. You're hurting my neck!" She gasped for air.

"Shut your damned mouth! I'm tired of your constant bitching, and it's getting worse every time we go out." Spittle flew from his mouth and sprayed her face.

Uncontrolled words poured from her throat despite the fact they served as an invitation to Edward's abuse.

"Then don't make me go out any more with that bunch you associate with. I'd rather stay home and read a good book than spend my time trying to be nice to a bunch of low-life scum."

He released her neck, drew back his hand, and slapped her forcefully across her cheek. Bella reeled and grabbed the stair post to keep from falling. Charged with adrenaline and sudden fear, she started up the stairs. Intent upon getting away from Edward, she feared the likelihood of a severe battering.

Uppermost in her mind was also the fear that one-day Edward's drunken rages would unglue his control so badly that he would kill her. Edward grabbed Bella, knocking her off-balance. He jerked her back down the steps.

"Bitch, don't you dare turn your back on me when I'm talking to you. I'm not through with you," he snarled, sending another spray of spittle from twisted lips.

"Edward, please just let me go upstairs," she pleaded. Her lips quivered as if she might be freezing. He grabbed the front of her beautiful white gown. Jerking her toward him, the fabric ripped, baring one of her breast. He cupped her breast with his hand and squeezed.

"Nice," he slurred through a sickening smile. "Daddy has something for you, baby." She cringed away from him, desperately frightened by his manner, suspecting what he planned to do to her as punishment for confronting him. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Please, Edward, let's just go upstairs."

"What's wrong with right here?" he said, roughly massaging her breast.

"You know why—the security cameras. Please, Edward, you know the guards are watching on the monitors. Please don't do this." She reached up and pushed his hand from her bosom, embarrassed to death knowing their horrible scene and her exposed naked breast was on the monitor screens.

She tried to pull the fabric up to cover her breast, turning in the same motion to go upstairs.

"I said don't ever turn your fucking back on me again!" he ordered through gritted teeth, snatching her around to face him. Bella recoiled in alarm, every nerve prickling with terror.

"Please, Edward. Please don't do this. I beg you."

"What's wrong, baby, I thought you enjoyed being on centerstage," he taunted. "A fine lady like you would look good on the monitor screen. Why don't we give the guards a nice performance?" His hand was hurting her wrist, and she tried to twist free, but he only squeezed tighter, his nauseous alcohol breath puffing in her face.

"No, Edward, please. Stop it. Stop it!" she screamed, and for just a second he loosened his hold on her wrist long enough for her to twist from his grasp and shove him away from her.

She turned to run, hoping to get to the bathroom and lock herself inside, as she had done on other occasions when he was drunk and abusive. Bella only made it a couple of steps before he grabbed her hair and snatched her back, spinning her about to face him.

It felt like her scalp was torn away bringing instant excruciating pain. He drew back his hand and slapped her. She went flying backwards against the stair steps, the sharp edges cutting into her backside. He reached down where she lay crumpled like a rag doll and grabbed her hand, jerking her to a standing position.

With a sneer on his face, he roughly found her lips, ravaging her with his teeth, tongue, and mouth until her lips were swollen and salty with the taste of blood. She struggled, trying to get away from him, but her slender strength was no match against his hundred and seventy pounds.

When he tasted the blood from her teeth-torn lips, he turned to one side and spit, and then reached out and put his fingers in the cleavage between her breasts. Tightening his grasp on the fabric of her expensive gown, he jerked it downward, ripping the seams of the fine silk, snatching and jerking the fabric until it tore in shreds from her body.

Bella stood there in shock, trying desperately to cover herself with her hands and arms. Fear paralyzed her and she watched as though this horror were happening to someone else as Edward pulled her to the hard marble floor and tore off her panties.

When she was naked, her dignity destroyed, she was aware that Edward's mental and physical abuse had reached another level. Raping her in front of security cameras monitored by guards was the ultimate victimization.

It would establish his complete control over her life. With her expensive clothing tattered about her feet, her naked, trembling body chilled by the cold marble floor, she was at Edward's mercy.

In a punishing assault, he brutally raped her, the pain of the hard floor against her slender form. His rough treatment drew hysterical screams from her throat. When he finished, he rose to his feet, staring down at her as if she were a piece of trash left by the vacuum cleaner. Standing over her, he reached down toward his crotch and zipped his pants.

"Do let that be a lesson, darling, to never cross me again." Knowing the guards were likely having a field day at the monitors, and her modesty compromised beyond repair, she grabbed her tattered clothing to cover herself. Struggling to a sitting position, every bone in her body screamed with pain from Edward's abuse.

Still standing above her with a frozen sneer, he kicked her thigh with the point of his shoe for emphasis, and she cried out in pain.

Humiliation burned her face while her stomach churned sickly with nausea and resentment. She hated him. Whatever she once felt for Edward Cullen was tainted and destroyed; her pride, dignity, and self-respect violated so ruthlessly she would never forgive him.

Knowing the guards observed her nakedness and his rape of her on the monitors made her cringe and shiver with shame. Her hate of Edward was the only strength he couldn't take from her.

"From now on, your only job in life is to make me happy," Edward stated arrogantly. He sent her a contemptuous glance then turned and went upstairs.

Left stiff and bruised on the cold, hard marble floor, three guards hovered around the security monitors afraid to blink lest they miss even a single glimpse of the best performance ever seen on television or in the movies. They were disappointed when it was over.

Struggling to get to her feet, and covering as much of her body as she could with her scrapped gown, Bella knew her life with Edward would be nothing but hell from now on.

The next morning, as was Edward's habit, he hugged her, kissed her, wrapped her in his arms, and apologized. He promised he would never do such a thing again. Bella knew it was a lie. By nightfall, after he had deluged himself with alcohol all day, he would be in the same frame of mind as last night.

Following his attack, she nursed a black eye and numerous body bruises for more than a week. The incident taught her the art of pretentiousness. She put on airs that would have made her a star in the movies, an act merely to prevent further harm from Edward.

He was pleased with her new attitude. He continued making sly little remarks to keep her aware that if she displeased him, she would pay. If Edward could have known how much she hated him, he would have killed her.

One good thing occurred from Edward's sexual and physical abuse the night he assaulted her on the cold marble floor. The frequency of the dinner parties declined following that night, and if they received invitations, Edward mostly went without her.

Only occasionally did he demand that she go with him. Careful not to draw his ire, she offered no resistance to what he requested or expected of her. Survival was her only goal now, and she did anything he asked without argument.

The times she did not accompany him, she spent her evenings alone, reading or watching television, sometimes just listening to music from the huge CD selection she collected over the years.

She was lonely, but she found her own company far more gratifying than she did with Edward and his friends. Enjoying a reprieve of sorts, she basked in her newly found peace.

Then it all changed in a heartbeat. Edward went out one night, dressed in his suit, and a silk shirt as white as snow. When he came home, dark makeup and bright red lipstick stained his collar. His smeared lips reminded Bella of a baboon's ass.

He took off his coat, tie and shirt, and then stepped out of his pants, letting them fall to the floor. Dropping onto the bed drunkenly, and smelling like the stale scent of cheap perfume mixed with the muskiness of recent sex, he reached to turn off the light.

Bella was enraged at Edward for flaunting his infidelity so blatantly. Popping up from her pillow to a sitting position, she spoke acidly, "Edward, if you plan to see other women, then you won't mind if I move to another bedroom." He turned out the light and lay down.

"You'll fucking well leave my bed when I say so, and not until. So, shut the hell up so I can go to sleep," he mumbled with a yawn and turned his back to her.

"Better still," Bella continued, "just give me a divorce and let me leave here." It was the first time she had ever mentioned the word divorce to him.

That got his attention, and he bolted up to a sitting position on the edge of the bed and flicked the light back on. Instant rage consumed him. He was quiet several seconds, and then he turned enough to reach out and grab her by her hair. He jerked her across the bed and jabbed a fist into her jaw.

"You stupid bitch, you just can't leave well enough alone, can you?" He gritted his teeth, speaking in a soft tone that hissed with venom. "Don't ever mention divorce to me again, Bella. If you should ever get the notion of trying to run away from me, I will kill your ass. Mark my work."

Pain shot through her head where he snatched her across the bed by her hair. A handful of unattached hair twined between his fingers, and he shook it to the floor. Despite her pain, and too incensed to let well enough alone, Bella spoke her mind.

"You expect me to sleep with you after you've just come from another woman?" she screamed. "God, I would puke if you ever touched me again." Edward made a scoffing sound and leered at her.

His wife wasn't a very bright student or she would learn to keep her fucking mouth shut. Grabbing her, he crushed his red lips to hers, hard and bruising, his teeth cutting into the tender flesh and drawing blood.

"Stop it, Edward!" she demanded, not realizing her outburst merely encouraged him. She struggled with him, crying out at his abuse. Her head now hurt dreadfully.

Before he finished, atrociously abusing her physically and sexually, she was begging him to stop. What he did to her was the most sickening thing he had ever done. Hell had just come knocking.

Befouling her skin with the touch of his flaccid organ, knowing he had just come from another woman made her want to puke. She swallowed it back to avoid harsher abuse.

In the meantime, he ripped off her gown like a lunatic, tearing it to shreds. Looking at her nakedness made him passionate, and Bella knew something was terribly sick about that look. His verbal expression just before a climax,

"Baby, baby, give it to daddy," was a tell-tale clue denoting his sexual fantasy. He touched her between her legs, discovering she was as dry as sandpaper.

"You're a cold bitch," he told her. "About the coldest I've ever known. Where did I get the idea in the beginning you were warm and passionate?" The dangerous tone of his voice deepened Bella's tenseness.

She knew better than test his wrath further. Edward's evil streak would devise whatever inhumanity he could to teach her a lesson in obedience. With her scalp swollen, and her head pounding like hammers, she tried to mollify him.

"Edward, I'm sorry. I don't mean to displease you," she said humbly. It amazed her how she could sound so sweet, while rage boiled inside her like a steaming kettle. She wanted to yell that she hated him, wanted to scream every invective she could recall.

She wanted to find the nerve to take his gun from the nightstand drawer and blow his brains out. God, she could just see it in her mind, him lying sprawled on the bed with his brains seeping out of the gunshot hole—and just the thought made her feel relief.

Her apology humbled him, at least temporarily. He seemed a mixture of contradictions as he expressed a contemplative mood.

"Just tell me one thing—why in the hell can't I please you, baby?"

"You do please me, Edward. You do," she cried, wanting to placate him to prevent further abuse. How could the SOB expect anything less than hatered when he abused her so hideously, not to mention him expecting her to reciprocate while the stink of another woman rose from his body?

"Like hell, you say. When have I ever pleased you? You don't even know what I'm talking about, do you?" he demanded in disgust, slapping her backside with a stinging blow. With his hands and eyes sliding over her breasts, he talked as though he spoke only to himself.

"I've been as tender with you as a man can be, thinking you'd respond, but you're too damned cold to even know how to enjoy sex. I have given you more foreplay than any woman who's ever warmed my bed, and nothing excites you."

"I don't do it purposely, Edward. Truly I don't." He was working himself up to his sick inhumanity.

He wanted to hurt her, and he would. She knew what he planned, and her stomach rolled with revulsion. Bitter bile rose in her throat and she swallowed it back down, the red lipstick from his kiss leaving a sick sweet taste in her mouth along with other despicable tastes.

He forced his ultimate punishment upon her, leaving her choking and struggling to get air into her lungs. Then when she feared she might die of strangulation, he must have noticed her plight, and ceased the oral penetration. He flung his full body weight down upon her.

Pinning her down, he spread her legs and rammed his huge manhood inside her dry canal. Bella screamed with pain, crying and praying it would soon be over. The pain in her head seemed to worsen continuously.

Like a man driven by perversity, he thrust in and out like a stevedore, and Bella bit her lips to hold back further screams. She felt moisture and knew his roughness had ripped delicate tissue inside her to cause bleeding.

It was horrible. He was horrible, a monster who sadistically and purposely hurt her. When he finished pounding her unmercifully, leaving her insides feeling disconnected and like raw flesh, he rolled off onto his back, his legs outspread and his limp bloody penis peeking dismally from his undershorts.

He was snoring in minutes. She went to the bathroom, threw up the contents of her stomach, and scrubbed her body and the inside of her mouth until that, too, was raw.


	6. Chapter 6

I don't own anything!

Chapter Five

Morning came with clouds gathering outside for a possible thunderstorm. Bella was thankful that Edward was gone when she opened her eyes to excruciating pain caused by him snatching and ripping a handful of hair from her scalp.

She lay upon her bed nursing her bruised body and aching head while old memories of her parents flooded her thoughts. A sickening feeling crawled through her stomach.

Few doubts remained in her mind that Edward was responsible for their deaths. She considered the possibility that he might have some accident in mind for her when he tired of his sadistic abuse of her.

Living with him had become life threatening and hell on earth. Mrs Mallory, the housekeeper, appointed herself as Bella's caretaker. She checked on Bella that morning when she didn't come down for breakfast.

The middle-aged woman harboured a certain fondness for the young Mrs Cullen, going out of her way to befriend her bosses' wife. It was no secret to her that Bella was an abused wife after seeing blood on the sheets too many times not to question the impropriety of Edward Cullen's use of his spouse.

However, this was the first time he'd inflicted serious damage to her person, the knot spreading on her scalp the size of a cap. Feeling great pity for Bella, Mrs Mallory checked on her often, brought her food, juices, coffee or tea, and hovered over her like a friendly parent.

"Not feeling any better?" she inquired sympathetically, her strong Spanish accent nearly making her English incomprehensible.

Bella shook her head, wincing with pain at the movement. She reached for the aspirin on her nightstand, popping the lid to pour two tablets on her palm. Tossing them into her mouth, she swallowed them with a drink of water from the partly filled glass on her nightstand.

Laying her head back against the pillow, she was unable to find relief. Her head ached so fiercely it had kept her awake all night.

"You should leave him," Mrs Mallory whispered, glancing furtively toward the door, seeming to understand only mildly, how dangerous it was for her to speak of any situation occurring in the Cullen home. She usually kept a tight lip, but seeing what Mr Cullen had done to the nice, young Mrs Cullen was unpardonable.

Bella glanced at Mrs Mallory, the woman's remark reflective of what Bella had thought of all night long. She wanted to leave Edward, desired escape from him more than anything.

His threat to kill her kept drumming in her ears, and she clearly realized that whatever she did, staying or leaving, would involve putting her life at great risk. Edward stopped by Bella's room before dinner. She was dozing when his weight sagged heavily against the mattress, the movement causing her eyes to flick open.

"How are you feeling, baby?" he asked with what sounded like concern, the only reason being that he wasn't drunk yet.

"I'm not well, Edward. The pain is unbearable. I need a doctor," she moaned, knowing he would not let her go see a doctor. It would invite too many questions. He ran his hand across her forehead, brushed the auburn-gold hair back from her face, and watched her wince at his touch to her swollen scalp.

"I'm sorry, baby. You will feel better in a couple of days. If not, I will see about getting you some pain medication. Aren't the aspirin helping at all?" he inquired, seeing the aspirin bottle on her nightstand.

"No, not much," she said raggedly.

"I'll check on you later," he said, leaving the bed. Bella watched his arrogant stroll across the room.

The authoritative features of his nose, chin, and forehead were in profile and his previously sleek body was beginning to show a midriff bulge. His very presence wrought hate through her system like a festering sore erupting with poison. She turned her back on him to hide the bitterness assailing her as he went out the door.

She thought about all the guns she had seen numerous times in his study, in the gun case, the one in the nightstand on his side of the bed, and wished she had the nerve to point one at him and pull the trigger. It would be so easy and quick, she reasoned, experiencing a growing desperation to be free of the monster she married.

The next several days became stressful reminders of Edward's threat to kill her if she tried to leave him. While it played on Bella's mind with an intensity that left her tired, her head ached too much to do more than lightly reflect on leaving. She prayed the swelling would soon go down on her scalp. When she could think better she would formulate plans to leave Edward.

When Edward caught her dressed to go out the following afternoon, he stopped her. The driver, James Mac, the chauffer that Edward provided for her use, was waiting out front.

"She won't need you for the rest of the week, James," Edward asserted authoritatively. James nodded and drove the car back into the garage.

"I have to see a doctor," Bella implored, mere speech wreaking excruciating pain and sending a grimace weaving across her face. It was all she could do to stay on her feet, dizziness nearly overcoming her.

"There'll be no doctor. Go to your room and rest. You'll be okay in a few days." His look told her he would tolerate no rebuttals.

Knowing better than to argue, Bella turned about on unsteady feet and headed back into the house for the bedroom.

Embittered by Edward's firm control over her life, her desire to escape from him began growing into an obsession. The week stretched endlessly before Bella. Every day filled with unrelenting pain from her swollen scalp.

Confined to the house, and not feeling much like reading or watching television, time pressed upon her in boring pursuit. It gave her time to think, and time to start brainstorming possible plans of escape. It had to be a good plan so carefully thought out there would be no opportunity for failure.

With Edward's threat to kill her if she tried to run away, one chance might be all she would have. The week passed without further incident. Edward slept nightly next to her, never touching her. During the day, he looked in on her frequently to inquire how she was doing.

"I'm glad to see you feeling better, baby," he stated encouragingly each time he appeared, barely coming past the threshold. His overt concern resembled a predator's stealthy actions to entice his prey.

Bella knew he did not care whether she felt better or not. He was simply afraid she might die and the authorities would charge him with murder. Aggravated by his presence, she treated him with silence. She was to remember frequently how her parents had tried to open her eyes to the kind of man Edward was.

She could almost picture them saying, "we told you so."

Three weeks passed before Bella's scalp healed. The swelling went down and she could brush her hair now with only slight sensitivity. Three weeks, enough time to lie in bed and make plans for the most important and daring scheme ever attempted in her life. Believing Edward would act on his threat to kill her if he caught her running away could not deter her belief that freedom was well worth the risk.

Ultimately, however, it could very well be the last thing she ever did, she surmised. Many times, Bella opened the drawer in the nightstand to look at the gun. Apprehension shivered across every nerve ending, causing her to close the drawer quickly.

After repeating this action many times, she finally reached down and laid her hand on the gun. It was cold to her touch. Wrapping her fingers about the gun, she lifted it, turning it in her hands, paralyzing fear gripping her at the very thought of what she considered.

The cold metal of the gun kept reminding her how deadly it was, and her heart pounded fiercely with apprehension. Pushing both arms out in front of her, she took aim, envisioning Edward's face before her and thinking how quick and easy it would be to do the deed.

Just a little squeeze of the trigger and it would be over. She would be free. But would she? The police would come and carry her away and she would still be a prisoner. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead and her hands trembled at the thought of sending a bullet into Edward's brain.

Her knees weakened until she had to sit down, dropping on the edge of the bed. The thought of shooting Edward frightened her considerably. With rising hysteria, she shoved the gun back into the drawer and slammed it shut. She could not do it. She would never be able to pull that trigger. To knowingly attempt to snuff out another's life was against everything she had ever been taught. It would make her no better than Edward. She could not do it.

Her only choice was to leave him. Leaving was not something she could do overnight. It would take time, planning, and strategy. Since she was not allowed to go anywhere without James, who gave Edward a report of every outing, she would have to plan carefully every move.

Drawing money from the bank account her father left her would be first on her list of things to do. Then she would stash it in the safety deposit box until she was ready to make her get-away. That seemed like the most likely plan, the best one that came to mind. She decided to act on it, and planned an outing on the following day.

"Where are we off to today, Mrs Cullen?" James asked respectfully, it the first time in more than three weeks since she had requested his service.

"To my favourite shop, The Boutique," she replied in her quiet manner, climbing into the back of the vehicle while James held the door for her.

She could not help but wonder if he had been watching the monitor that night when Edward raped her. Her face reddened at the thought and she found herself unable to meet his gaze. James sometimes talked to Bella on her frequent shopping trips.

Today, however, he was silent, and Bella was glad. She needed to concentrate on what she was doing. Her palms were sweating, and she kept telling herself to stay calm despite that deep fear in the pit of her stomach at what would happen if Edward were to learn of her plan.

She was surely treading disaster, but if it all worked well, she was certain the outcome of regaining her freedom would be worth the risk. Still, she could barely suppress the fear of thinking of Edward's retribution.

She could imagine all sorts of things far worse than death that he might do, and had every reason to believe her husband would be merciless. James pulled into a tiny parking lot next to The Boutique, and parked the car.

"Are you planning on being long, Mrs Cullen?"

"It depends," she said noncommittally. "You know me, James. Some days nothing appeals to me, then others, well… you know how it is." She spoke much the very same words to him on every outing, but today, they sounded insincere to her own ears.

She could feel sweat popping out all over her, her fear mechanism in high gear. Thus far, she had done nothing any different from a thousand times before, but the contrived deceit, planned out in her own mind, brought nervous guilt stimulating every nerve ending.

Despite the fear quaking through her, she managed to sound calm, and James seemed satisfied with her answer. He grabbed a magazine from the seat next to him, pushed the seat as far back as it would go, then made himself comfortable for a long wait.

He knew Bella lingered over fittings sometimes that had taken up to three hours on one occasion, so he was always prepared with something to read when he took her to that particular shop.

Occasionally, he might run to a nearby gas station for a bathroom break or a soda; otherwise, he sat and waited, occasionally cranking the car to run the air conditioner.

"You take your time, Mrs Cullen," he said, repressing a yawn and covering his mouth with his palm.

To keep James from knowing about and reporting her visits to the bank to Edward, she devised a plan to delude him. She would enter The Boutique, go out the back door and down an alley, and then cut back out onto the sidewalk where she would hail a cab to take her to the bank.

Today, both clerks were busy and the proprietress was nowhere in sight, so Bella entered the store and kept walking right on out the back door. The clerks did not even see her, and James had no reason to suspect this shopping trip was any different from all the others.

She had no trouble flagging a cab, and she was at her destination in minutes. In the bank, she inspected the safety deposit box her father rented in her name. Strange, she thought, that she had never bothered checking it before. She supposed there had not been a reason since Edward was generous with his money.

Now, when she opened the large safety deposit box, it was stuffed full of money, and upon first glance, looked like many thousands of dollars in various denominations. There was also a fat envelope of documents. She turned it in her hands, deciding to investigate it another time since she felt the need to rush.

Needing more space for her other purposes, she rented another safety deposit box. After learning the balance of the savings account, she was duly shocked that the amount rivalled anything beyond her expectations.

She was certain her father never would have put that much money in a low interest savings account unless he had good reason to believe something might happen to him.

A sense of guilt surged swift and strong as she blamed herself for not listening to her parents. They likely would still be alive today if she had only listened to them. She shook off the bitterness and guilt for the moment, needing to concentrate on her plan.

Bella knew she would create attention if she tried to withdraw the entire amount at once, so she did some mental calculations, deciding to make intermittent withdrawals over several weeks.

She withdrew the first advance, placing it in the new safety deposit box with the withdrawal receipt, and suddenly thought about what her father had said.

"One day, you will be glad of my foresight." _Daddy, you were right, _she thought, _and I wish to God that I could tell you that now. _

When her business was finished, she took the cab back to the alley entrance, quickly making her way back to The Boutique on foot. She found the alley door locked, and knocked softly while she worried that no one would open the door for her.

Rose, the shop owner, opened it and raised her brows when she saw Bella.

"Rose, please don't mention this to anyone," Bella implored quietly.

"No problem. What my customers do is their own business." Just to make her trip look good in James's eyes, she bought a blouse, and the clerk boxed it for her. Glancing at her watch, she was satisfied she had used less time than usual when she shopped, sometimes buying nothing after lengthy browsing.

"Mrs Cullen, you didn't buy much today," James said more in conversation than in speculation after noticing her single package.

Bella's nerves were on edge even though she knew James had no reason to suspect her of doing anything different than she had hundreds of times before.

"I couldn't seem to find anything to suit me today, James."

"Where to?" he asked, knowing she sometimes made the rounds to several shops.

"I think I'm ready to go home. I'm not in a shopping mood," she said with a deep sigh of resignation.

Feeling terribly relieved over having successfully gone to the bank without detection, she started planning her next shopping trip when she could withdraw more money from her account.


	7. Chapter 7

I don't own anything!

Chapter Six

Over a period of the next several weeks, when she could get away from the estate without suspicion, Bella continued converting her savings to cash and transferring it to the safety deposit box until the account was empty.

With plenty of time to brainstorm, design, and refine her plan of action, she bought a long blonde wig, large dark glasses, baggy jeans and shirt, sneakers, socks, long dangling earrings, and a light jacket with long sleeves.

To add to the effect, she purchased a portable cassette player with earphones and one tape. Her costume was made up to resemble the appearance of the younger generation whose style was anything but conservative—sort of "hippy" she thought.

After each purchase, made intermittently over several weeks, she smuggled them into The Boutique in a tote bag she frequently used when she shopped. In the bathroom, she packaged the items tightly together, and then taped them beneath the sink where she hoped they would remain until she was ready to retrieve them. It was a chance she had to take.

She used Rose's phone to call the bus station, learning the bus schedule to the first largest town, where she would buy another ticket to another large town, hoping the numerous changes and stops would throw off anyone trying to trace her.

Nearly two months later, she reviewed all she had done, going back over every detail to determine if her plans seemed ironclad. Nothing appeared to be remiss. She was ready to take the big step.

Now, she only needed to wait patiently until Edward made another trip down to Colombia. There was less chance of detection if he were not there to initiate a search for her. No one would call in the police to report her missing unless Edward gave the order himself.

She needed to make one last purchase, a large duffel bag for the money. She had to go out the back door of The Boutique one more time and take a cab. Since the duffle bag was too large to hide, she took her other items from beneath the sink and put them in the bag.

She entrusted it to Rose, making up a story about not wanting to carry it about with her and would pick it up later.

"No problem," Rose told her, "It'll be here whenever you ask for it." With as much money as Bella spent in her shop, Rose could be very accommodating.

Another month passed before Edward informed her he was flying down to Colombia.

"Why don't you come with me?" he asked, and her heart jumped up in her throat.

"I don't think so," she replied calmly even though her pulse throbbed erratically. "I haven't felt well lately. I'd rather not."

Edward eyed her suspiciously, his eyes examining her closely. Bella knew if he were of a mind to insist on her coming, she would have no choice in the matter. Her nerves were raw-edged as she waited breathlessly for him to ruin all her carefully laid plans.

"Suit yourself," he remarked coldly, hardly caring one way or the other. "I'll be gone a week." A breath of relief escaped through her trembling lips and she fought to suppress her quickening excitement.

Adrenaline tingled through her torso and limbs, but she checked it, not wanting to give Edward reason to suspect anything. She greeted his news with apathy as she usually did, accepted his goodbye kiss early the next morning.

Her heart pounded furiously with elation. It was time. Her moment had finally arrived to put Edward from her life. A certain amount of excitement suffused in her blood stream, but beneath it was another, more pronounced emotion, pure terror.

She was scared to death. Even with Edward a continent away, his presence was still as invasive as if he stood beside her. She could feel perspiration breaking out all over her even though the coolness of the air conditioning was at a comfortable setting.

Butterflies nested in her stomach, fluttering violently at various moments like a thousand pulsating wings. Every tiny sound she heard startled her, sending a frightening jerk all through her body. Adding to the tumultuous anxiety invading her sanity was the imagined outcome if Edward or the guards discovered her attempt to escape.

A million times she wished there was someone to talk to, someone to confide in. She knew people all over the city, but all were friends of Edward. Anyway, the women Bella knew were probably like her, afraid to trust anyone.

There was Carlisle Mason, her Godfather, who was her late father's closest friend. She trusted him beyond any other man, yet Bella dared not contact him by phone or in person. Such communication was traceable, which could jeopardize Carlisle's safety. She had to do this alone. There was no other way, and it was absolutely the only way to retain secrecy.

Giving Edward time to arrive at his destination, she waited until the next day to make her get-away. The night proved a sleepless one with intermittent dozing blighted by terrible dreams that left her drenched with sweat. The night stretched endlessly. Every time she glanced at the digital clock, little time had passed since the last time she looked.

When daylight began peeking over the eastern horizon, she was exhausted. Dragging herself from the bed, she went to the shower and stood an extended time beneath the soothing splintery spray. It revived her, washed away some of the lethargy, and cleared her thoughts.

She knew she had to be alert, had to follow every detail to the letter, lest James get wind that something was underway. Since it was still much too early to put her plans in motion, she chose her attire carefully; a comfortable suit and blouse, and flat sandals, which she seldom wore.

She knew she should wear heels as she usually did, but she needed comfortable shoes in the event she had to move quickly. Finally finishing her daily routine of showering, putting on makeup, and dressing, she inspected herself in the mirror before going downstairs for breakfast.

"Mrs Cullen, you're up early today," the cook stated curiously. Then seeing how tired Bella looked, she continued. "Are you feeling well? You look tired."

"I didn't sleep well," Bella replied shortly, wanting to avoid further conversation. She was certain everyone could look right into her mind and see what she planned.

The feeling of transparency left her nervous and highly fidgety. She spilled her coffee and the cook wiped it up. She dropped her bread knife when she was buttering her toast, and it clanked against the plate. Her hands shook violently, and she had to hide them in her lap when the cook kept noticing them.

She was too nervous to be hungry, but she ate heartily anyway since she might not have a chance to eat for many hours to come. She also drank several cups of black coffee to stimulate her dulled senses. Her hands became clammy and she kept wiping them on the linen napkin, wishing away the time.

She would leave at exactly eleven, and once downtown, she would dismiss James, who sometimes took lunch while she shopped. As time neared for her to leave, she stood before her closet, her clothing and the toilet articles in the dressing room the only signs that she even lived there. It was like a goodbye to the only things she cared about in Edward's home.

She would carry no apparel with her except the duffle bag and its contents at The Boutique. She touched a few items of clothing lovingly, hating to leave everything behind, but knowing it was necessary.

Her clothes had been the only source of interest for the past five years, and except for shopping sprees, she would have been a prisoner for all the freedom allowed her. One's state of mind could become a worse prison than actual bars, and from that perspective, she realized just how imprisoned Edward had kept her. She punched a button on the in-house phone.

"James, I want you to take me out today." Nothing in her tone or manner was different from previous times. It was only in her lower stomach that the difference registered sharply. The butterflies were alive and pulsating, their wings flashing and fluttering with the force of a wind-swept storm.

"Yes, ma'am, what time."

"I'm ready now. I'll be out in a minute." James noticed the flat sandals right away as he held the car door for her.

"Mrs Cullen, you don't look so tall without your heels," he said without intending discourtesy, his middle-aged face looking like sun-dried leather with deep wrinkles. Bella's heart gave a strong lurch.

"Yes, I slightly turned my ankle. It was a bit swollen and painful, so I decided against the heels today." Her damp hand wrapped around the shoulder strap of her purse, grasping tight enough to cut off circulation in her fingers and turn her knuckles white.

"I never could understand how women can walk around in those stilted heels anyway," he said, smiling broadly, ever appreciating the lovely visage of his bosses' wife.

"Wearing heels is the price we pay to look glamorous, I'm afraid," Bella replied softly, smiling sweetly despite the raging tremors inside her.

"Where are we off to, Mrs Cullen?" James asked. He cranked the shiny black vehicle and steered it down the drive that swept through a lengthy expanse of lawn and on through the iron grilled gate opening.

"Take me to my favourite spot, James." After James pulled off the street into The Boutique's little parking lot, Bella gathered up her purse and waited for him to open the door.

"James, since it's nearly noon, why don't you take lunch. I will probably be busy with fittings and the like if they got in a new shipment. Take your time. There is no need to hurry. Just give me a number where you will be and I can call you. I'll probably take lunch with Rose." Her plans were routinely the same as many times previously, and James had no reason to question them.

Habitually, when she gave him leave for lunch, he went to his favourite restaurant where some of his cronies hung out, spending two or three hours, never in a hurry because he knew Mrs Cullen would call him when she was finished. He jotted down the number, remembered by heart, and handed it to her.

Bella wasted no time. When Rose spotted her coming through the doorway, Bella greeted her as usual. She inquired about the duffel bag. She waited while Rose fetched it.

"Here it is," Rose said, holding it up, "just where I put it. Do you want it now?"

"Sure, I'll just hold onto it so I won't forget it." Then turning to eye the direction of the bathroom, she rushed off toward it. "Too much coffee this morning," she said, knowing Rose would understand.

She had done that before, too. Bella used the bathroom to relieve her bladder, and then eased out without anyone observing her.

The bathroom was on a tiny hallway near the back door, so Bella hurried out back to the alley. She felt like running once her feet touched the pavement, but she knew better than to do anything that might attract attention. Instead of running, she walked as fast as she could.

The butterflies were taking a rest now as Bella's mind intently strove to follow the carefully laid plans reviewed dozens of times. When she came to the end of the alley where it opened onto the street, she cast her eyes up and down, to be sure the vehicle driven by James was nowhere in sight.

For a second her heart froze in her chest as a long dark car, looking exactly like the one James drove, passed right before her eyes. She was not able to see the driver because of dark-tinted windows, and whether or not he saw her, she had no idea.

Quickly, she hailed a cab, which offered concealment, and Bella breathed more easily once inside. When they arrived at the bank, she asked the cabby to wait for her.

Glancing about the large bank lobby now, she hoped this would be her last time coming here. If things went well, she would be well away from Miami by midnight.

She went to the teller who handled the deposit boxes and waited her turn behind an old man who moved and spoke with arthritic slowness. The teller followed him into the vaulted room, turned her key in the lock, and then waited for him to turn his key before showing him to a small private room.

All the while, Bella counted the minutes. The teller came back out and followed the same procedure with Bella, except in this instance, keying two safety deposit boxes.

Alone in the small room, Bella hastily transferred the money and documents into the duffel bag after taking the package of clothing out.

It took a few minutes longer than expected to make the transfer before she put the deposit boxes back, constantly aware of the time ticking away. She had to be at the bus station before twelve-thirty, to change clothing, purchase her ticket, and be on the one o'clock bus.

Sweat broke out all over her body as she hurried to the waiting taxi. Her auburn-gold hair was such an attention-getter, she hoped and prayed no one would spot her before she arrived at the bus station and changed into the clothes bundled in the package.

All it would take to ruin her plans was for a single acquaintance of Edward's to see her in a taxi. It would be a dead giveaway since they all knew Bella had her own driver for wherever she wanted to go.

She gave the taxi driver a street name she knew was only two blocks from the bus station. If anyone traced her to the cab, at least no one would be perfectly sure she had gone to the bus terminal.

In the cab, she pulled her hair back in a ponytail and twirled it around in a bun so it would not be quite so flashy. When the cab driver let her out, she paid him and quickly started in the direction opposite from the bus station, wanting to mislead him on the direction she took. As soon as he was out of sight, however, she turned about and seeing the time was slipping past too quickly, she hurried toward the bus terminal.

Once inside, she raced to the restroom, flung off her clothes and tore into the package containing the most disgusting clothes she would likely ever wear again. She quickly donned them, draped the blonde wig over her head, added the large sunglasses and earrings, and inspected herself in the mirror.

Another look at her watch informed her she had to buy her ticket immediately, or the bus would be leaving without her. She stuffed the clothes she had pulled off into the duffel bag, spreading them so they covered the money that would have invited all kinds of thieves from every dark corner of the planet if they guessed what she carried.

One last look in the mirror brought a smile to her lips. She really did look like some young, dumb, street kid without a care in the world. She did not recognize herself, and was almost sure that if Edward could have seen her, he would not have recognized her either.

With the earphones over her ears, it added to the effect. Satisfied with her appearance, she rushed from the restroom. The ticket woman looked at her distastefully, wondering why young people had to ruin their looks by dressing so sloppily.

"Where to?" she inquired indifferently with a bored look on her face.

"Orlando," Bella said, ignoring the woman's critical stare and sharp manner. She paid for her ticket and went to board the bus. A line of folk in front of her looked tired before their trip began, as if dreading the long ride ahead of them.

Bella found a seat at the very back of the bus, wanting to be as inconspicuous as possible. Seeing the bus wasn't filled to capacity, she claimed both seats, sitting toward the aisle and putting the duffel bag beside her. Many miles later, after her bus left the bus station, she glanced at her watch and saw it was past three o'clock.

She suspected James would be wondering why she had not called. How long would he continue to wait, she wondered, before eventually realizing that something was wrong?

She tried to determine the actions of James and Edward's guards back at the estate. Would they go in search of her first or would they simply call Edward right away to report her missing?

Regardless, there would be a mad search to find her. Thank God, she thought now, that she had disguised herself. Even in disguise, though, doubts churned restlessly. She was not altogether sure she had escaped her prison. It seemed more appropriate to say she was simply exchanging one prison for another since her fear would keep her just as shackled as Edward had done.

She turned on the cassette player and fixed her earphones in place, listening to music that, despite its soothing tone, made no marked difference in her agitated nerves. Every cough, raised voice, or any sudden braking, caused her to twist off her earphones so she could better hear what was going on around her.

Finally, she turned off the cassette, removed the earphones, and prepared to give closer attention to everything around her. The miles slowly ticked away, the distance between her and Edward growing wider.

After she changed buses in Orlando, she felt a bit more secure, but she knew better than to get complacent. She still wasn't out of danger of Edward's power and influence. His threat to kill her kept her extremely alert and cautious. She still had miles to go.


	8. Chapter 8

I don't own anything!

Chapter Seven

In Miami, Bella's absence began taking its toll, and those having to answer to Edward Cullen were in no favourable moods. By four o'clock on the day Bella left, James was still waiting in the restaurant with one of his cronies, looking at his watch every few minutes.

He checked with the manager to see if anyone called for him, getting a negative reply. His friend, Sam, was talking, but he was not hearing much of what Sam said. He was beginning to get very concerned over Mrs Cullen not calling. She was usually through shopping before four o'clock.

"James, why do you keep looking at that infernal watch?" Sam asked irritably, leaving his story unfinished since James wasn't listening anyhow.

"I've got to go," he said, jumping from his chair and rushing toward the door, leaving a questioning Sam gazing after him.

At The Boutique where James dropped Mrs Cullen, he parked and went inside for the first time ever. There had never been a reason before to enter the shop. A woman met him just inside the door.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked.

"Yes, who is Rose?" he inquired, his eyes sweeping over every visible inch of the store.

"I'm Rose. What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for Mrs Cullen. Is she in the dressing room?"

"Who are you?" Rose asked before answering.

"I'm her chauffeur. Is she here?"

"No, she left some time ago." Rose knew Bella went out the back door as she had numerous times in the past few weeks, but she wasn't about to give the man that information. She had to protect her clientele, else they would shop someplace else.

"Where did she go?"

"I'm sure I don't know. She never tells me where she's going."

"Did you see her leave?"

"No, I didn't. I have been rather busy this afternoon. When I had a moment to look about, I realized she was gone." James picked up her phone on the counter and dialled.

"Paul, we've got a problem," he said into the phone. "Mrs Cullen has disappeared." Paul, the head guard in charge when Edward was out of town, sat up straight, the chair groaning with his weight. Jumping to his feet, the chair tilted backward and crashed to the floor.

"Gone? What in the hell do you mean, _gone_?"

"She told me she would call me when she finished shopping, but she never did. I got worried and came back to the shop looking for her."

"Where in the hell were you? You were supposed to be watching her."

"She told me to go have lunch and she would call me when she was finished shopping."

"You stupid damn bastard, I thought you knew what your job was!"

"It was nothing new. I've done it many times before."

"Then _we _damn well don't have a problem, James, but _you _sure as hell do. You get paid to watch her so nothing like this happens."

"I was following the routine I've always followed. What are we going to do, Paul?"

"I don't know what you're going to do, but I'm calling the boss. If I were you, James, I'd pack a suitcase and get the fuck out of Miami just as damn fast as you can."

"It wasn't my fault. Surely Mr Cullen won't blame me."

"Not only will he blame you, but you'll damn well pay if something's happened to her. Have you forgotten those other two who created problems for Mr Cullen, not to mention at least a dozen others? You do recall them, don't you, James? Our boss knows how to make people disappear."

That is all James needed to hear. He went to the bank, drew out his savings, and ditched the shiny limo. He went back to his tiny apartment and started packing his clothes, intending to catch the first bus out of the city. He figured if he could get to New York City and get lost among the hordes of people Edward Cullen would never find him.

It took Paul a couple of hours before he could track Edward down, and he dreaded like hell to be the one to tell him. It was his duty, though, since he was in charge. He just hoped Edward would not take his hostility out on him since James was probably already on his way to the other side of the United States.

"Disappeared?" Edward screamed into the phone, following with a string of expletives. "Disappeared from where? Can't any of you sons of bitches do anything right?" Paul winced at the anger in Edward's voice, and reluctantly repeated the story told by James.

"What in the hell have you done about it?" he demanded, rising impatience seeming to reach through the telephone from Columbia to Miami and quickly growing into dangerous rage. Edward's breathing sounded hard and ragged now, and Paul knew the man was in a killing mood.

"I sent some of the guys out with her picture to some of the shops where she frequently goes. I told them to hit on taxi drivers and the ticket tellers at the bus station. I also checked car rental places, and the airline, and nothing was booked under Mrs Cullen's name." There was a lengthy span of silence as Edward thought it through. When he spoke again, he was calmer than at first.

"What does James have to say for himself?"

"About all he said was that she disappeared."

"Let me speak to him."

"I can't, Mr Cullen. He is missing, too. The guys located the limo, but James has also disappeared."

"I want that son of a bitch found, and you know what to do when you find him!"

"What about Mrs Cullen? What do you want me to do?"

"You look for her and find her, but I'll deal with her myself. I do not want the police called in. We will have to handle the matter ourselves. Check pawnshops to see if she pawned jewellery. She had to have money to get out of town and I never leave her more than a couple hundred since I have charge accounts established at the places she frequents. She also has a couple of credit cards. Find out if she has made any recent charges."

"Yes, sir, I'll get the boys busy on it."

"Paul, you get off your ass and find her, do you understand?" His voice was suddenly calm, but underlying the calmness was a deadly rage.

"I'll be back on the earliest plane I can get, and I'm going to kick some ass if she's not found by the time I arrive home."

Bozeman was the largest city located near the small bedroom community called Windy Point where Bella planned to settle. Exhausted from the days and nights aboard buses, where she feared even taking a nap with so much money in the duffel bag, she decided to spend a night in Bozeman before going on to her destination.

After clutching the handle of the duffel bag until her hand felt locked into a curved fist, and forcing her eyes to remain open when her whole body cried out for sleep, she knew she needed a bed and rest.

When she arrived at Windy Point, she wanted to be at her mental best, ready to handle the business of her money, and find a place to live.

Taking a cab, she asked the driver to take her to the best hotel in town with a good restaurant. She yearned to bathe and take off the wig that heated her head as though she was under a dryer.

She walked into the hotel lobby and requested a room, aware that she did not look exactly like the type of guest who would frequent one of the better hotels. Under normal circumstances, she would have been ashamed of her appearance. Now, however, she was thankful for her awful clothing that had served her well in her escape from Edward.

"You might be more comfortable somewhere else," the desk clerk told her, eying her questionably, her blond hair flowing over her shoulders like a horse's coarse mane.

"I'm sure I will be very comfortable here," she assured him, taking money from her purse to pay in advance. The desk clerk eyed it suspiciously.

"Ma'am, this is a respectable hotel," he warned, assessing her distastefully.

"Sir, all I want is a room and a place to sleep. I may be dressed very foolishly, but my moral behaviour is more refined than yours I dare say." She slid a bill in his hand. He looked startled, but instantly changing his attitude, he pushed a registration card toward her. She filled it out, her hand scratching in the information, all of which was a lie.

"I'll be here one night," she said. "How much?"

His reply was abrupt, but he handed her a key and told her the price. She counted out the correct amount and handed him, which he also looked at questioningly. People paid with credit cards, rarely using cash for payment. He was not sure about this. He could end up losing his job, but the twenty bucks she handed him would come in handy toward the new tire he needed for his car.

"Are there any clothing shops near the hotel?" Bella inquired, thinking she would like to look a bit smarter tomorrow when she went to the bank. Her wrinkled suit stuffed in the duffel bag would hardly look presentable.

"There's one a few blocks over," he said, and gave her the address and directions. Bella took a cab to the location given her. Their prices were high, but they had some lovely clothing that caught her eye immediately.

She received several evil stares because of her attire, but for the most part the clerk was friendly and helpful. Not in the mood for a lot of shopping, she bought one gorgeous white suit and a pale yellow silk blouse to wear with it.

She purchased hosiery; a matching set of under-things, and had to go to a couple more shops to find comfortable pumps and a matching purse, cosmetics and personal items.

As soon as she was back at the hotel in her room, she slid out of her clothing, glad to rid herself of it as she stuffed the items into the trashcan along with the blonde wig. She kept her sneakers, socks, and sunglasses, as well as her underwear, which she washed in the sink and hung on the shower rod to dry.

She checked her watch as she had done probably hundreds of times since leaving Miami, and each time she did, palpitations pumped erratically in her chest. By now, the hue-and-cry had gone out, and a full-scale search would be underway for her.

No doubt, Edward cut his Columbia trip short and was likely in a killing mood. He probably had considered numerous ways to murder her since learning of her disappearance.

The fact that she had outsmarted him, thus far anyway, would be enough to make him more dangerous than ever. Her life would not be worth a wooden nickel if he found her. The thought of his virulent rage sent a shiver along her spine.

She bathed, washed her hair and towelled it dry. She called room service and ordered a green salad and ham sandwich and some hot tea. When she finished her meal, she could not stop yawning.

_God, I have never been this tired_, she thought. Tucking the duffel bag beneath the bed covers next to her, she fell into a hard, fast sleep that lasted throughout the afternoon and night. When she awoke the following morning, she ordered a huge breakfast and plenty of coffee through room service.

She wanted to remain out of the public eye as much as possible even if she was far away from Miami. She considered changing her appearance, maybe cutting off some of her flamboyant auburn gold hair, but had no scissors. She dressed in her new white suit, looking like a completely new person when she made her way down to the lobby.

Her long, shapely legs drew attention from the short hemline down to the black patent leather pumps she wore, but she did not notice. Still emotionally tired despite all the many hours of sleep, her brain would not let go of all the visions of what must be happening in Miami.

She was physically free from Edward, but she would never be emotionally free. Fear of Edward discovering her whereabouts kept her bound to him as completely as if he were by her side. The desk clerk looked at her with appreciation, and did not recognize her, not even when she informed him she would like to pay her room service charges. He looked puzzled, not having remembered checking her in.

"What room, miss?" He asked, scratching his head. When she handed him the key, he did an about face, his eyes gleaming with surprise. Bella settled her tab and asked him to order her a cab. She only had a few minutes to wait.

"To the bus station," she told the taxi driver, hoping this would be her last bus ride. Buses made her hopelessly uncomfortable now after spending so many long endless hours on them.

As the bus carried her to Windy Point, she thought of her parents and the time the three of them visited the small town years previously. She was deep in thought when the bus stopped on the curb next to a bus stop sign across the street from the post office. With her duffel bag handle clutched tightly in her fisted hand, she walked toward the business district, suddenly feeling more alone than she'd ever been in her life.

This morning, upon waking, her body, her mind, everything felt numb. Now, her precarious situation hit her with a rush of emotion. She was on her own with no friends, no one to turn to, and feeling akin to a hunted animal.

Depression weighed heavily upon her tense shoulders. She tried to concentrate on her surroundings, barely remembering anything from her visit years ago with her parents. She felt like crying, but bit back the urge.

Landmarks looked different and strange, quite unfamiliar to her wandering gaze. Recalling the town had been small, now she could see it had not changed a great deal. It was still small with a row of stores and shops on both sides of the avenue, compacted close enough within a commercially zoned area as to put things within easy walking distance.

Nearer the outskirts was a motel, also in easy walking distance. It was where she and her parents stayed when her father visited with his good friend, Jacob Hale, many years ago.

"Jacob Hale," Bella whispered aloud to herself, digging the name of her father's friend from her memory, the man she would soon be seeing. She started down the sidewalk of the main street, feeling extremely nervous at the prospect of dealing with Mr Hale, even if he had been a friend of her father.

She expected the bank to be a small establishment much like all the little modernized shops and stores with decorative facades. She was pleasantly surprised when she spotted the bank, and saw it was a nearly new structure.

When she went inside, its modern architecture was somehow very stabilizing and friendly, as was the modern decor. The floor contained a carpet in a conservative shade of grey with borders of dark mauve. Padded chairs, covered in mauve leather complemented the rough textured wallpaper with its abstract lines and shapes.

The lobby was enormous with several tall patron desks spaced across the length of its centre and containing deposit slips, credit applications, and other banking forms. Green plants, selectively placed, lent an earthy setting.

Bella's heart pounded against her chest as she went to the first teller she saw. Business and banking were not exactly her areas of expertise, and she was frightened that she might somehow bungle this, considering she had so much cash on her. One phone call to Edward for verification of who she was would surely mean ultimate death for her. She could feel her hands grow damp and the butterflies start up again.

"I'd like to see Mr Jacob Hale," she said, and watched the woman's face take on a frown that raised Bella's uneasiness.

Her hands were shaking nervously. All alone in a strange place, with no one for moral support, feelings of loneliness and fear consumed her. If not for her father's referral to Jacob Hale, she would fear having to deal with anyone else.

She hadn't the foggiest idea how far-reaching Edward's organization was, and giving her name to anyone could create a trail leading him to her. She dared not trust anyone.

"May I ask what the nature of your business is?" the woman asked, replacing her initial frown with her best professional look as she sized Bella up.

"Investments," Bella told her, trying to sound confident. "I'm here to make an investment."

"Hold on, miss. I'll see if Mr Hale can see you now." She picked up the phone, and spoke quietly. "Mr Hale, there's a young woman here who is asking for Jacob Hale. She says she would like to make an investment. Can you see her, sir?"

A silent pause at the woman's end preceded a nod of her head before she hung up the phone.

"If you'll go down to the end of the teller windows, you'll see a door there on your left. Just knock on it, and go right in."

Bella nodded, wondering why the woman stared at her so inquisitively. Her paranoia was in overdrive. The butterflies fluttered nervously, and her palms felt terribly clammy. She was extraordinarily afraid of questions.

Any personal information given out could easily establish a paper trail making it easy for Edward to find her. She hoped Jacob Hale would not make her quite so nervous. She took a deep breath, her mind focused so intently on Edward possibly locating her, she could barely think coherently.

She found herself subconsciously glancing over her shoulder. She took another deep breath, knowing she needed to get control. Putting herself out in public among people presented the greatest concern for her.

Stopping in front of the heavy door, she read the nameplate bearing the name Jasper Hale, President. A flicker of confusion caused her to frown. She searched her memory, thinking she might have incorrectly recalled Mr Jacob Hale's first name. Perhaps Jasper was his middle name, she thought.

Straightening her back and changing her facial features to the inscrutable mask she'd long worn with Edward, she tapped lightly on the door.


	9. Chapter 9

I don't own anything!

Chapter Eight

Jasper Hale finished signing his name to the document on his desk, and stood up at the sound of tapping on his office door.

It wasn't unusual for new investors to request a meeting with him, but he was pleasantly surprised when this particular investor opened the door and stepped into his office.

She stood there, her hand on the doorknob, staring at his face, looking considerably confused. While she attempted to sort through the sudden questions plaguing her, Jasper was trying to stop staring.

She was the most beautiful woman to walk through that door since he took over running the bank. Meticulously groomed, she looked like someone out of a glamour magazine. Her clothing was tasteful, expensive, and very feminine on her shapely figure. She was beautiful—more than beautiful, he thought. She was exquisite.

"Please come in," Jasper said. Bella remained where she stood, gazing questionably at him.

"There's been a mistake," she said with a slight quiver in her voice. "I was looking for a Mr Jacob Hale." Jasper slipped from behind his desk.

Seizing the doorknob from her hand, he pushed the door shut. Placing his hand lightly upon Bella's back, he guided her to a chair.

"Jacob Hale was my father," he informed her. His use of the word _was, _passed right by her attention.

"Your father?" she questioned, taking a seat and sitting on the edge of the chair. She gazed up at his more than six foot height, tilting her head back on her shoulders to better view his face. "I thought _he _was the bank president," she continued, watching Jasper move around his desk and lower his muscular form into his leather upholstered executive chair.

She observed his darkly tanned face. She clutched the handle of the duffel bag she had set on the floor next to her chair. Jasper reached for a pen, which he toyed with distractedly, and leaned back in his high-backed office chair.

"My father died nearly two years ago," he explained. The information jolted Bella, and she suddenly looked shocked and worried.

"That can't be," she exclaimed, clearly disturbed at the news. "What I mean is…" she paused in mid-sentence. "I'm sorry about your father's death." Her voice quivered and Jasper nearly reached for a tissue to hand her, thinking she was about to cry.

He held back, however, watching her take a deep steadying breath.

"Why don't you tell me who you are, and what business you required of my father," Jasper suggested.

"Your father was a friend of my father. Before dad died, he deposited some money in this bank for me, and told me to come see Mr Jacob Hale when I needed to access the account." Jasper was clearly startled.

He knew immediately who she was by the amount of money her father had deposited in his bank for her.

"I'm Jasper Hale, Jacob's youngest son. Perhaps I can help you, Mrs" Bella glanced at her lap where her left hand curled into a tight fist. The large diamond-encrusted wedding rings on her finger glittered brilliantly beneath the fluorescent lighting.

Realizing all at once how careless she had been not to remove the rings, she did so now. Unobtrusively, she slid them from her finger, dropping them into a tiny zippered pocket of her purse.

"I'm Bella Swan," she said, using her maiden name that would be on the accounts her father set up in the Hale bank. "I suppose you don't remember my father, Charlie Swan?"

Jasper's forehead creased into a thoughtful frown, as he reached across his desk and shook her hand.

"As a matter of fact, the name is familiar. I believe your father visited here about five years ago. I recall that particular visit because I made a special trip here to Windy Point to participate in a birthday celebration for my dad. Your father and mother's visit coincided with the occasion and they joined us."

"Then you do remember him," Bella stated, pleased. She shifted her weight closer to the edge of the chair and bent forward expectantly.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. He spoke of you a number of times." Jasper could not take his eyes away as her shoulders slumped with relief and she let out a long sigh. Her coral lips parted into a sad little smile.

She pushed herself back in her chair, which set at one end of his desk, giving him a full, clear view of her. She crossed her knees to expose long shapely legs. Her skirt rode high up her silky thighs.

He purposely moved his eyes to her right hand that continued to clutch the handle of the duffel bag. She sighed with relief.

"For a moment there I was afraid…" She cut her sentence short, and Jasper was wondering now what it was she wanted with him.

He was aware of the account her father had established. Everyone at the bank was. It was one of their largest accounts. The fact that it set idle for the past years in a money market account with low interest rates had drawn the questionable curiosity of a number of his bank employees.

"Are you moving here to the area, Miss Swan?" he asked in his best business-like manner.

She uncrossed her legs, and then crossed them again with the other leg. Her white skirt rode up a little higher leaving lace peeking from beneath the hem. Jasper's breath caught in his throat as he subconsciously leaned forward in his chair, his eyes lingering just long enough on her silky legs to bring a blush to her cheeks. She raised her hips and self-consciously pulled down her skirt, lowering her eyes behind long lashes as she answered him.

"Yes, I do plan to move… live here," she corrected. "I wish to establish a checking account with your bank." Her voice held a light quiver again, and Jasper's eyes studied her hand holding the duffel bag, wondering why it seemed so important to her. She nervously clasped and unclasped her fingers around the handle.

"Are you okay, Miss Swan? You seem rather apprehensive," Jasper said just before his phone rang.

He lifted it, listened, and then informed the caller he didn't want to be disturbed. He put the phone down, watching Bella, and quietly deciding to string this meeting out as long as possible. It wasn't every day someone so beautiful wandered into his office.

"I've been traveling, and I'm extremely tired."

"From where have you travelled?" Her brows knitted, and she looked at him with a note of hesitancy in answering. This meeting was not going the way she hoped. The impression that she could simply walk into the bank, see Mr Jacob Hale, and put everything in his capable hands had backfired. Instead, Jasper Hale seemed intent upon conducting an interview with her, which she wanted to avoid.

The less information she disclosed about herself, the safer she would feel. Her aim was to bury Bella Cullen and become Bella Swan again.

"If you don't mind, I would like to access my accounts," she told him, instead of answering his question.

"I believe you only have one account," he replied.

"There's also money in a safety deposit box." She reached inside her purse and pulled out the safety-deposit box key, handing it across the desk to him.

"I see," he replied, leaning forward to retrieve and examine the key. "I will need identification, of course."

"Isn't the key sufficient? I wouldn't have it unless I'm who I say I am."

"Asking for identification is standard procedure, Miss Swan," he said with a faint shrug.

"What if I don't have identification?" she inquired, suddenly uncomfortable with this meeting, and the prospect of having to share her driver's license, which had Edward's Miami address on it. She didn't know Jasper Hale and didn't trust him with information that might inadvertently find its way back to Edward. He stood up.

"I tell you what, why don't we go across the street for a cup of coffee. We can talk there." Suddenly she was angry.

"Mr Hale, I came here hoping to meet with a man who knew my father and whom I could trust, and who would help me handle my financial affairs. Instead, I have no choice but to deal with you, in which case, I need to establish a checking account. Will you, or will you not, let me access my savings account and the safety deposit box?" She gripped the handle of the duffel bag tighter, afraid for him to know what was inside it until she felt more trusting of Mr Jasper Hale.

"Your father left some information concerning his estate? Do you know who the executor is?" Jasper asked.

"Yes. He's my Godfather, Carlisle Mason."

"Then call him, and he can corroborate your identity."

"I don't want to call him." She jumped to her feet, entirely edgy and nervous now. She turned toward the door, prepared to leave, but as soon as she grabbed the doorknob, it dawned upon her that she would have to deal with Jasper Hale unless she planned to carry around a duffle bag filled with money.

She knew how dangerous that could be, so undoubtedly, she would have to compromise by supplying information about herself. Jasper remained sitting in his chair while he watched Bella preparing to leave.

He parked one ankle on his knee, leaned far back in his chair, and clasped his hands and fingers behind his head, knowing that whatever she did, she would have to come back eventually.

"That offer of a cup of coffee is still good," he remarked unconcernedly, as she paused at the door.

"Very well, I accept," she said a bit icily, realizing that trusting Jasper Hale was her only option. Jasper rose from his chair joined her at the door. They walked past the tellers windows on their way out, and he did not miss the eager, quizzing glances that flew their way.

Seeing someone new in town, especially someone as beautiful as his new client brought the gossips out of the woodwork. Everyone he knew would note any contact, business or personal, which he had with Bella from now on.

Once her name was recognized as the one on that huge account her father set up for her, she would become a kind of celebrity and wouldn't be able to go anywhere without people staring and watching her. Gossip was characteristic of small towns and Windy Point was notorious for it.

"Mr Hale, I'm at a terrible disadvantage," Bella admitted when they were outside the bank and her lungs had filled with several puffs of fresh spring air.

It smelled differently here than in Miami where exhaust fumes and other thick odours punctuated the atmosphere of the entire city. Here it smelled of mountains, of hills and valleys that wore a cloak of bright green as new blades of grass greeted a breath taking spring.

"And how is that Miss Swan?"

"My father obviously trusted your father a great deal, and I was prepared to extend my trust to him as well. Discovering I will be dealing with someone else, I'm having reservations about whether I can place my trust in you as I was prepared to do with your father."

He gave her a sidewise glance, looking vaguely slighted. "I assure you, Miss Swan, that all bank accounts are handled with the utmost privacy and discretion. Our customer relations and confidentiality have never been questioned before." Bella tilted her head back and stared toward a beautiful blue sky, her long auburn-gold curls falling down her back nearly to her waist.

A white puffy cloud floating across the sky caught her attention a moment before she diverted her attention back to Jasper and his nicely tanned profile.

"I'm not speaking of professional confidentiality. My situation is unique, and I need to know I can trust you explicitly before I start producing identification such as you requested earlier."

"Surely you must know that I cannot run a bank efficiently or successfully if the people I do business with aren't able to put their trust in me." Bella stopped in her tracks.

"I don't think you're following me. Have you ever been afraid for your life, Mr Hale?"

"Do you fear for your life, Miss Swan?" He touched her back with his fingertips, and they continued strolling. His articulate evasiveness exasperated Bella.

"Yes, I do fear for my life," she answered forthrightly. He halted at the door of the restaurant.

He stared into her tired eyes that resembled moist brown pools reflecting deep melancholy. It reminded him of a time not so long ago when he could measure his own life by broken dreams, crushed hopes, and frustration-filled days. The ordeal after his arrest, the time he had spent in jail, and the long days of his trial had all been akin to dying by slow degrees.

"Let's discuss it over coffee, and see if we can't make things easier for you," he informed her.


	10. Chapter 10

I don't own anything!

Chapter Nine

Looking around while Jasper pulled a chair out and seated Bella, the sterile-clean restaurant caused memories to return from years previously when she was ten-years-old.

The restaurant had not changed much. The worn polished floor tiles gave off a waxy shine much as they had when she was last there. The winter-white walls boasted aged looking paintings of yellow and green prairies, horses, and cowboys that Bella remembered seeing the first time she and her parents ate there. Ancient fans overhead, which she recalled, whirred lazily, the season still too cool for air conditioning.

Somehow, it felt familiar and safe here, the family atmosphere causing Bella to feel not quite so homeless. Jasper took a seat across from Bella, and the waitress rushed over with two glasses of water. She greeted Jasper as Jazz, and took their order for coffee, which she brought back shortly.

Without the business atmosphere of Jasper's office, Bella was more aware of his presence; the manly quality of his voice, his erect posture, his darkly tanned face with long dark lashes and brows, his strong, capable hands with fine black hairs edging his knuckles, and the aristocratic features of his face. The soft scent of his aftershave lotion wafted to her nostrils, a spicy smell that was both pleasant and appealing.

He possessed calmness, unlike Edward's aggressive manner.

"A penny for your thoughts," Jasper remarked with a hint at humour. He was watching the pulse at her throat beating rhythmically against her creamy, faintly tanned complexion. She sent him a rueful smile.

"You would be short-changed I'm afraid." The sight of her pleased Jasper, and her secrets invited his curiosity and interest.

"Tell me about your father," he said, and watched her smile fade. A contemplative mood washed over her lovely face. The auburn-gold hair bounced conspicuously with each movement.

She measured her words as she lifted her chin, taking in every angle, line, and the texture of his face. Then her eyes softened with gentle regret.

"Both my father and mother were killed in an car accident more than five years ago. It happened soon after Dad visited here," she replied softly.

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right," she said, a half-smile faint on her lips at a distant thought. "Mom and Dad were both wonderful parents and left me with many happy memories."

_And lots of money_, Jasper thought cynically while his eyes lit on her wide, sensuous, full ripe lips. Her smile, when exhibited in a more pleasant mood, could probably charm a lion. She was beautiful, one of those helpless women men loved assisting. He should know. He knew her for less than an hour, and was already obsessed with her.

She probably had known her share of pampering, he thought. The diamond rings worn earlier, and the diamond encrusted watch she still wore were strong evidence of that notion. Bella glanced about the restaurant, seeing a light friendliness displayed amongst the patrons.

"I've been here before. It was a long time ago, but I recall this restaurant well."

"It's an old establishment and draws a good number of locals as well as travellers from the interstate. When were you here?"

"I was only ten years old. It was years ago. I met your father then, but I had totally forgotten about this place until now. In fact, my parents and I visited here with Mr Hale over coffee and coke for me."

"How is it our fathers knew each other?"

"Dad mentioned that they were friends in college. Dad was a Harvard man."

"So was my father. It is interesting they kept in touch after all those years. Anyway, what brings _you _back to Windy Point?"

"I explained that to you. Before my father died, he told me Mr Hale would help me if ever I needed to depend upon someone."

"I'm afraid I don't understand. Why would you _need _to depend upon anyone?" She studied him critically for several seconds before answering, deciding she had no other choice but to put her trust in him.

"I'm running away from someone, Mr Hale. My father had the foresight to suspect something like this might happen. It is why he opened the account for me in your bank. I ran away because I fear for my life. That is why I was afraid to give you information about myself? Perhaps I'm paranoiac, but I don't want to share information that might lead someone to me."

"I assure you, Miss Swan, that you can trust me just as much as you were prepared to trust my father. Your secrets are safe with me."

Something caught in his chest as she smiled at him then, and he swore it was a million dollar smile even if it was only gratefulness—or maybe just relief. Her lips quivered, giving the impression she was near tears. Vulnerable fool that he was to a pretty woman's smile, the strong masculine urge to comfort and protect was having a field day.

"Thank you," she said simply, inclining her head, her long lashes, darkened with mascara, fanning her high cheeks.

"You're welcome, but I do have a simple request," he said, drawing her attention to his face.

"What?"

"Do you think we could drop the titles? My name is Jasper." He extended his hand across the table, and her slender fingers curved about his.

"I'm Bella," she said, feeling the warm strength of his hand enclosing hers.

Tiny vibrations of heat caused a slow shiver to crawl along her spine. The handclasp made her aware of him, not just as a banker, but rather, as a virile and compelling man, whose blue eyes warmed enticingly.

The handclasp continued too long, and she noticed Jasper's palms were rough with calluses. She wondered how that was possible when he worked in a bank. She pulled her hand back, becoming self-conscious to discover she liked his touch, which seemed somehow gentle.

_I'm literally starved for human compassion_, Bella thought. The years of verbal, physical and sexual abuse had left her feeling like a cold, empty shell of a woman. Edward had accused her of being an iceberg, and she had no doubt that his abuse had turned her into one.

She often wondered if she would ever know real pleasure in intimacy. Was she incapable of reaching that pinnacle she had heard was one of the most satisfying pleasures between a man and a woman? Would she hate sex with any man, the way she hated it with Edward.

With a sigh, she knew it didn't matter. She certainly had no intention of finding out. That area of her life was now retired.

She lowered her head, staring into her coffee cup. She was tired and weary, unbalanced by too many problems that distance from Edward had not resolved.

The handclasp left Jasper feeling a sudden sense of kinship with Bella and a desire to know her better. Actually, he credited the interest to his rather strong libido—and maybe even to a need for companionship. Those same two reasons made him, like most bachelors, a sucker for a beautiful woman.

"What are your plans, Bella?" Jasper enquired, hoping to acquire more information about her. So far, all he knew was her name, and that her father had established an account for her in his bank. Suddenly showing up on the threshold of his office clutching a duffel bag, and no indication of where she came from, she might have been from Mars for all he knew.

"My plans?" she echoed his question. "I need to find a house, buy a car, and maybe get a job later on."

"What kind of job are you looking for?" A confused frown crossed her brow, and she turned up her lips as if something smelled bad.

"I don't know," she said, embarrassed. "I've never worked before." Just then, she laughed, a sparkling, tinkling sound that was extremely pleasant to Jasper's ears. "I suppose an employer wouldn't find my résumé of much value."

"Maybe I can help."

"Mr Hale, that's exactly what I've been asking for— your help. I need a checking account."

"Jasper," he reminded her. "Please call me Jasper. I believe I explained that you needed to contact Mr Mason."

"Yes, you did explain that; however, I need assurance you won't put information about me on some computer database, where someone can easily pinpoint my whereabouts. I am not very expert at any of this. I have never run away before. I have never handled money before. In fact, I have never gone anywhere alone until I travelled here. I do need to depend on someone, and since it cannot be your father, it has to be you. I simply need to keep a low profile, and while I do trust Carlisle Mason, I am afraid to call him for fear of putting him in jeopardy.

"If this all sounds dramatic, it's because you don't know all the details. I just know I can never go back to where I came from, and that choice might not continue to be mine if my whereabouts become known." She looked at him in bewilderment, hoping for his understanding. Searching his rather poker-face expression, she continued.

"I have identification—a driver's license, but it also has an address on it that I don't want to share because if it got in the wrong hands, it could mean my life. Now, do you understand, Jasper?"

"I think I'm beginning to get the picture," he replied, her disclosure indicating how vulnerable she was. "I'm a good listener if you need someone to talk to," he offered.

Bella studied him. His face had strength and character, and more than conventional good looks, but he was still a stranger, and she was reluctant to put all her trust in him.

"Thanks, I'll remember that." Bella noticed he had not shown any indication of changing his mind about her calling Carlisle. Like with everything else, she seemed to have limited options when it came to banking.

The duffle bag set on a chair next to her. She reached over, and clutched the handle for several seconds, thoughtfully considering an idea. Finally, she set it on the floor beneath the table, nudging Jasper's knees with it.

"I'd like for you to take this," she directed, staring into his sky-blue eyes. When he hesitated, she said, "Please take it." He watched her with a puzzled frown, but he lifted it, noticing how heavy it was. Pushing his chair back a few inches, he set the duffel bag on his lap, all the while staring at Bella questioningly.

"Well, now what?" he asked, waiting for further instructions.

"Open it," she told him sitting forward expectantly. Jasper undid the clasp, and opened the bag. He saw clothing on top, visually examined it, and then lifted a lacy bra just high enough for Bella to see what he was doing. A grin curled his lips while he waited for her reaction.

"This is very nice, but I don't exactly understand why you want me to look at it." Bella's face turned crimson.

"Push the clothing aside." she retorted, sitting on the edge of her chair and watching his face. He was a banker, so she did not expect him to be shocked at what the duffel bag contained, but he was—big time.

"Jesus H Christ!" he exclaimed loudly, drawing stares from around the room. He snapped the duffel bag shut, turning an intense speculating gaze upon her. "You've been walking around with this?" he remarked disbelievingly in a strong whisper that drew more stares from nearby. "Don't you have better sense than this?" he added, appalled, and setting the bag at his feet. Bella felt his gaze sweep over her like invisible hands.

"Yes, I have been walking around with it, and yes, I do have good sense, but some things can't be helped. I would like to deposit it in your bank. I have the withdrawal slips."

"There must be a million dollars or more here," he whispered. His blue eyes danced from her face down to her throat, her breast, then back up again. He stared at her lips.

She traced his face with her eyes, distracted by his dark sensual gaze that swept over her.

"Will you let me deposit it?" she asked timidly, feeling her heart beating much too fast as he continued staring at her. He shook his head with disbelief. A sardonic grin slowly traced across his handsome lips, and his white teeth flashed with a pearly sparkle as he spoke.

"I suppose I'll have to if for no other reason than to keep you from being robbed, bludgeoned and killed. Bella, whatever possessed you to carry around cash? You could have gotten a cashier's check, you know." He sounded like a father speaking to his child. Her voice raised an octave or two.

"I told you I've never handled money before, but I do know checks can be traced. I did what I thought was best." He laughed softly, it more an expression of astonishment than humour.

"I can see why your father would want to send you to my father." Outrage exploded in her brain. She might be inexperienced, but she wasn't stupid. She had lived with mockery for five years with Edward. She was not about to idly accept it from an insolent stranger.

"I thank you not to make fun of me," she said contemptuously, reaching for her purse, prepared to say to hell with Jasper Hale, at least for the time being. His hand shot across the table and covered her hand.

"I'm sorry. I was out of line. I simply couldn't believe you've been walking around with this." He held his hand on hers until her shoulders relaxed. "Exactly what kind of business was your father in?" he questioned, his eyes twinkling with a kind of idle amusement.

"I wasn't exactly walking around with it. I was riding a bus. To answer your question, my father was one of those big-shot lawyers who took all the cases no one else wanted, and he charged big bucks for getting his clients off. He was never short on capital or financial security, but he worked very hard to earn it. He was honest, too, and I don't appreciate any implication to the contrary."

"I'm sorry again. You have a right to correct me. Tell me about the accident."

"The car he and my mother were in was crushed by a tractor-trailer while stopped at a traffic light." A faraway expression flickered inaudibly while she spoke with a vulnerable quiver on her lips.

"Was the driver of the tractor-trailer charged?" Jasper watched the play of emotions across her features.

"He disappeared into the crowd, and couldn't be traced. The owner of the truck could not be traced either. The vehicle identification number had been destroyed, the license plate was missing and there was no owner registration." That sounded suspicious, Jasper thought.

"Do you believe it was an accident?" Bella trained her eyes on his evenly, and shook her head, shrugging her shoulders.

"I don't know. I keep thinking it likely was not an accident. All I know is that I don't want to end up the same way." She became aware that Jasper Hale was drawing her out, getting her to say far more than she intended.

Jasper understood the implication. His eyes warmed with kindness. He suddenly had the crazy desire to hold her until there was no more sadness in her chocolate brown eyes. Perhaps he was over-reacting, but she was the first presentable woman he had met since leaving San Francisco. Alice, his occasional companion, in a rather bizarre, one-sided relationship, did not really count.

"If my father were here, I know he would help you in any way he could. He was the kind of man willing to do anything for his friends. I'll help you however I can."

Bella raised her chin, staring at him in quick appreciation. Her eyes turned to brown pools of moisture, which she hurriedly dashed away with deft fingers. When she spoke, a noticeable quiver strained her voice. She nodded her head.

"Thanks, that's a big weight off my shoulders. Carrying all that money around frightened me half to death. I feel as though I haven't slept for days due to being afraid to do more than doze while riding on buses." Jasper touched her arm briefly, his voice suddenly gentle.

"Why don't we go back to the bank and take care of business?" He tossed a bill on the table, and standing, lifted the duffel bag, offering Bella his other hand. She took it. Rising from her chair, she felt warm vibrations ooze sensation from his hand to hers. He had a strong hand, callused and rough, but it felt good. She briefly clung to it, then let go.

She walked alongside Jasper Hale, slightly intoxicated by faint whiffs of his aftershave lotion or cologne. He was several inches taller than she was, and was dressed in a grey business suit similar to ones Edward sometimes wore.

She could not help but mentally compare them. Jasper was much younger than Edward was, his body a sculpture of proud masculine muscle and brawn, while Edward was growing a paunch and gaining weight.

Jasper wore no wedding band, so Bella supposed he must be single. Warmth crept through her veins and stole up her cheeks as she felt his eyes watching her. However, the fleeting reminder of why she was here sent a cold shudder through her system.

"Would you like to check your safety deposit box?" he inquired when they entered the bank.

"Yes, if it's permissible." He took her back to the vault himself, carrying the box to a small room for her.

When he started to go, she stopped him, unconsciously needing his nearness for support. It never crossed her mind that she might be keeping him from other duties. Nevertheless, he did say he would help her. Having him close was more comforting than she wanted to admit. He made her feel a little less alone. Oddly, placing trust in someone had that effect.

"Don't go," she said, when he turned to leave.

"Are you sure?"

"Would you mind?"

"No, of course not."

She opened the box, and while the contents did not surprise her, she heard Jasper suck in a big breath of air. The box contained cash, old money handled and passed through numerous hands.

Bella glanced up at Jasper, and he shook his head in amazement, suddenly wondering where so much money came from, and having some second thoughts about her depositing it in an account in his bank. It wasn't unusual for questionable persons to stash _dirty _money from drug sales in safety deposit boxes.


	11. Chapter 11

I don't own anything!

Chapter Ten

A prevailing silence ensued, and finally, Jasper spoke first.

"Bella, you realize I have to contact Carlisle Mason, don't you?" He moved to a standing position just behind where she sat. His hand touched the back of her chair, and she turned to look up at him.

His closeness, and the heat emanating from him, was somehow unsettling and comforting at once.

"If you have to contact Uncle Carlisle, then I have no choice." His fingers touched her shoulder gently for a second, and Bella's nerves flooded with a warm excitement too new to define. In the five years Bella was with Edward, Rose, owner of The Boutique, was probably the closest person she knew whom she could call friend.

The cook had been friendly enough, but Edward's abuse taught her not to trust anyone. Trust was a commodity she did not have a great deal of, or more aptly put, she did not find too many people worthy of it.

Jasper, on the other hand, was gaining points fast in the trust department. Before Bella closed the safety deposit box, she slipped her diamond rings in it. Jasper returned the box to its place.

He led Bella back to his office, aware of heavy stares as bank employees and customers followed their progress through the lobby. Most of them had never seen him so patronizing with a client, especially a female client. It was bound to cause a stir, but he could live with the gossip. He just wanted to keep it from touching Bella.

From the little information gained from her, he believed she had experienced some tough times. She needed no additional concerns now. When Bella saw Jasper raise his arm to look at his watch, it dawned upon her she had monopolized a good deal of his time. She reacted.

"I'm terribly sorry I've taken so much of your time. If you have something else to do…"

"No problem," he said quietly. "Would you have me turn away the most affluent client I have? My time is your time. Anyway, it isn't often we have a new face in town," he stated frankly and was rewarded with a meek smile of gratitude. When they were in his office, Bella slumped into the same chair occupied earlier, her shoulders drooping tiredly.

"Are you okay, Bella?" Jasper asked.

"I'm just tired. I do not suppose we can postpone this until tomorrow. I really need to find a place to stay."

"I would be remiss in my duty as your banker if I didn't advise you against postponement. You cannot keep carrying around that bag of money. It's too dangerous."

"Then tell me what to do."

"Do you have any idea how much money is in that bag?"

"No, it's only a guess. I know how much I withdrew from the bank, but there was additional money in a safety deposit box. It has to be counted."

"Let's take first things first. Why don't we call Carlisle Mason?" He made a call to a teller, requesting information. Picking up a pen, he jotted it down on a pad.

Bella watched him, her nerves catapulting with anxiety at the thought of being in contact with Miami, even through the telephone. She hoped this would not turn into a horrible nightmare.

There was always the possibility Edward's organization reached far beyond the Miami area. For all she knew he could have subsidiary operations scattered about the country. For that matter, Jasper Hale could be involved with him, for all she knew.

Nothing seemed impossible where Edward was concerned. Her fear of him made her cautious, and with good reason. She did not feel entirely safe with anyone. Still, she was doing the only thing she could do.

She entrusted Jasper with enough information to put Edward in her midst within hours if he were of a mind to betray her.

She watched Jasper pick up the phone, push a button for an outside line and then dial. He transferred the call to his speakerphone so Bella could hear the conversation. The number proved to be a direct line that put him straight through to Carlisle Mason. Jasper identified himself, and said,

"I'm calling in reference to an account in my bank, Mr Carlisle, of which you are the executor."

"What about it?" Carlisle asked dryly, and one could almost visualize him suddenly sitting up straighter in his chair, leaning forward attentively.

"The young woman whose name is on the account is here in my office. She would like to access the account." Carlisle was quiet a moment, and Bella could readily infer he was digesting the information and weighing it.

"Let me speak with her," he demanded, needing confirmation that the call was indeed from whom the man said he was.

"Uncle Carlisle?" She could hear him let out a relieved sigh.

"Are you all right, honey?" The sound of his voice brought a rush of melancholy and an overwhelming flood of sadness.

"I'm safe, Uncle Carlisle," she said shakily.

"Sweetheart, is it safe to speak openly to you there?" Jasper nodded his head at Bella.

"Its okay, Uncle Carlisle, there's just Mr Hale and me here." She tensed, knowing some traumatic news was about to be delivered to her. She sucked in a deep breath of air.

"Sweetheart, things have reached a bad state of affairs here in Miami. Under no circumstance must you let anyone else know where you are residing. It would be highly dangerous. Your husband has half of Miami searching for you. The newspaper got wind of your disappearance and I understand Edward has hired several private detectives to find you. The last I heard, the police may get involved. You know he has henchmen in the police department. The time may come when you might need to disappear again."

Jasper glanced at Bella, enlightenment dawning fully now on how desperate her situation was. It was easy enough, earlier, to think she might be over-reacting. Now, he knew better. She was running for her life. Knowing that, took on an entirely new perspective for him. She was alone and needy, and he was the only person in Windy Point who knew her situation. She needed a friend just now, and he seemed the only one available.

Bella tried to remain impassive, but Carlisle's news brought on a new wave of misgivings, her face contorting into an expression of raw emotion. Her eyes flooded with reflected brown pools of water and her lips quivered softly as she ground her teeth together trying to control it. Taking a tissue from her purse, she wiped away the moisture before it spilled down her cheeks.

"I understand, Uncle Carlisle."

"What do you need from me, honey?"

"Mr Hale will tell you."

"Mr Carlisle, a large amount of money was put in safety deposit boxes both here and in Miami. I need to know the disposition of that money before I can put it in an account. I will also need documentation from you, the executor, to enable her to access her established account."

"The money is clean, taxes have been paid, and I have documentation to prove it. I can fax you all the information you'll need." Jasper gave him his fax number.

"It'll be forthcoming," he said, stringing out a noticeable pause.

"Mr Hale, her father placed great stock in your friendship…"

"Sir, I am not who you think I am," Jasper interrupted. "My father, Jacob Hale is dead. I am his youngest son."

"Then I implore you, sir, to take every precaution with the information you receive. If certain persons were to learn of her whereabouts, dire consequences for my goddaughter could ensue."

"I assure you, Mr Mason, I shall assume the same confidentiality my father would have and give my client any help I can offer."

"Uncle Carlisle," Bella said before Jasper severed the connection, "please be careful. I've never mentioned your name, but if he found out your connection to me, he would stop at nothing to get information from you."

"Don't worry about me, honey. Take care of yourself. I'll be in touch only if I think it's necessary." He severed the connection, and Jasper hung up his phone.

Bella clasped her hands in her lap, her gaze aimed at one corner of Jasper's large desk, her thoughts running rampant.

Half of Miami was searching for her, Carlisle had said. The fear that kept her neck and shoulders tense grew stronger, and the thought that she would never be safe again left her feeling cold and numb inside.

She should not be surprised that Edward was arming an all-out search for her. She had expected it. Nonetheless, hearing it from someone she knew put it in bold perspective, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Her eyes turned to deep pools as she raised her head to stare across the desk at her benefactor. Her quivering chin magnified her strong emotions and vulnerability.

She swallowed several times, trying to bite back the tears, wondering if she would ever feel safe again. For the past several days, she had been living in a vacuum, her emotions held tightly in check. Now they came flooding forth as if from a broken damn, boiling over in an outpouring of weeping.

She tried choking back the sound of her sobs, even muffling them with a tissue, until the effort became too great. Jasper came out of his chair, suddenly experiencing a terrible sense of helplessness. Female tears had a way of doing that to him. He had never built a resistance against their impact.

He moved around his desk next to her chair, as she fought to regain control. Gently, he placed his hand upon her shoulder and felt her tense at his touch. He kept his hand there, pressing gentle, soothing caresses across her wracked shoulders.

He gave her his handkerchief, and she dabbed frantically at her damp face and moist eyes. With Jasper's hand gently caressing her shoulder, his masculine body standing next to her with the faint smell of spice teasing her nostrils brought her back to awareness.

She fought to regain control. When she raised her head again, only her wet eyes and red-blotched cheeks betrayed the emotional scene just displayed. She raised her lovely chin, exposing her ivory throat while dry little sniffles caused her chest to heave.

"I'm sorry for my emotional outburst. Hearing Uncle Carlisle's voice…well…things just caught up with me." Her pose was graceful, her manner gracious, her attitude regal, but an underlying sadness spread across her features.

Five years of pain and mental distress was a long time to bottle up one's cares, but until she and Edward were divorced, and their ties severed altogether, there would be no peace for her.

"I assure you, an apology isn't necessary. I think I am beginning to understand your situation. I don't admit to understanding how you must feel, but for what it's worth, I want you to know I'll help anyway I can."

Almost immediately, he wondered at what he might be _up against_, getting involved in a domestic situation that boded threat and danger. Whoever was looking for Bella obviously had powerful connections to have friends, or _henchmen_, as Carlisle called them, in the police department.

Nevertheless, Jasper was now committed, not only to helping her, but also to a growing infatuation. Like most bachelors still in their testosterone prime, he wasn't exactly immune to the magnetism of a beautiful woman. She sat straight in her chair, like a queen on a throne, her control soon restored.

"If you don't mind, I'm ready to continue with whatever we need to do," she said, her voice still a bit shaky.

"Can I get you something?" Jasper asked, admiring the way she forced herself to bounce back from despondency.

"No thank you. I'd really like to finish what I need to do here so I can attend to other matters." He went to a side door opening into an adjoining room containing a big executive table with more than a dozen chairs.

He motioned Bella to follow him. Setting the duffel bag on the table, he pulled out a chair for her, and handed her a yellow pad with several sharpened pencils. An adding machine sat in front of her. He thrust his hands aloft in quiet supplication.

"I can't help you with this. You have to fill out the deposit slip." Bella gave a noticeable sigh, opening the duffel bag and removing her bra, panties, a wrinkled suit, and sneakers with socks stuffed in them. Embarrassed, she scrambled to unpack the money so she could stuff the clothing items back in the bag.

"Thank you for your help. I apologize for having to involve you in my affairs," she said casting a cautious glance toward him.

"Why is that?" Jasper asked. At least for the moment, he was undaunted by any risks her situation might present.

"You heard what Uncle Carlisle said. There will be no end to the search for me. There could be danger involved in even knowing me, and I feel a responsibility to tell you that."

"I don't understand. Why is he so intent upon finding you? Do you possess information that could cause problems for him?"

"No, he has been careful not to expose me to anything that could be used against him. It isn't that at all. It is a matter of ego and a need to control what he owns. I belong to him—or so he thinks."

"I take it you're speaking of your husband?" She nodded her head in reply. "I shall consider myself adequately warned. Now, I suggest you stop worrying," he said gently, and left her to count her money.


	12. Chapter 12

I don't own anything!

Chapter Eleven

Carlisle Mason was as good as his word. He faxed the requested documents soon after Jasper's phone call. Jasper perused them carefully, saw they were valid and in order, giving Miss Bella Swan access to a great deal of money.

Added to what she brought with her, she was a very wealthy woman. Whatever worries she might be plagued with, she would never have to worry about financial security.

Enjoying the comfort of his chair, Jasper thought about his life. Each new day became much like all the ones past, revolving around a dull routine, requiring daily phone calls, answering questions from staff, signing documents, along with all the other professional requirements of a bank president. His daily boring lifestyle reminded him of how much he hated banking.

He was born wanting to create things, always enjoying any activity involving his hands. Loving to draw when he was a kid, he finally started drawing houses and buildings and soon discovered his calling.

He finished high school, went away to college and trained for a career in architecture. With his new degree in hand, he took a few jobs with some architectural firms, finally deciding to go out on his own when his name and work became a calling card capable of drawing clients on the merits of several beautiful buildings he designed.

San Francisco was the base where his success began and spiralled—and crashed. His success made him complacent, never dreaming that circumstances would throw him a left-hook and he would end up wearing an uncomfortable business suit every day to a job he despised.

Jasper once heard or read somewhere the words _emotionally deprived_, and he had never thought much about the meaning until Bella Swan walked into his office.

Now, glancing toward the door that separated them, he understood what the term meant. It adequately described the outcome of his life since becoming a banker. Sitting in the bank day after day, and cut off from everything that ever meant anything to him, with nothing to look forward to except more of the same, his life quickly settled into a state of anaesthesia, a numbness that allowed him to interact with the demands required of him like a programmed machine.

Then Bella stepped across the threshold of his office door, jump-starting the adrenaline inside him, presenting a vision of stature and beauty worthy of stimulating feelings he thought were dead. With flaming gold mane framing a delicate and sensitive face, and skin begging for the touch of a man's lips, everything about her stimulated some inherent need.

She provided a wonderful diversion from the routine and boredom continuously draining away his life like a missing plug. Her sudden presence, from beyond the borders of his small, confining environment, made him realize how bottled up his life had become.

Following the deaths of his father and stepmother, when his brother got the hell away as fast as he could, the bank became Jasper's responsibility whether he wanted it or not. Somebody had to do it, and since his lazy-assed brother had other plans, Jasper did not have much choice. The board of directors could have appointed someone else, he supposed, but by then, his life had undergone such overwhelming trauma, he stopped caring.

He watched his career and dreams fall by the wayside as he turned to banking. Banker's hours provided him extra free time, which he found ways to use effectively. He built his own house, a major accomplishment he took tremendous pride in, since there was nothing else to inspire pride.

In the empty hours of idleness, he also dated a few females, failing to develop an attachment to any of them. Sometimes he wondered what in the hell was wrong with him that he could not get excited about any of the women he met. He supposed it had something to do with the mentality of small-town girls growing up, getting married, having babies, and then raising their babies to start the process all over again.

Something seemed to be missing in such a lifestyle that presented the same boring outlook that his banking position did. Jasper spent more time with Alice than anyone else, and that was only because Alice aggressively pursued him.

Left up to him, he probably never would have gone out with her again following their first date. She was not what he wanted in a woman. She was pretty, but her other attributes were sadly lacking.

The fact that she aggressively made herself available to him in bed created a sort of open meeting ground between them. Alice was the one who planned all their intimate get-togethers. She offered, and he took.

It proved an uncomplicated arrangement until she began reaching for something more permanent. The first time she casually mentioned marriage, he found himself reacting with shock, never suspecting she might put greater significance on the relationship than what he did.

As far as he was concerned, they were simply two people passing time together. She did the pursuing, acting as though she knew nothing permanent existed between them. Her mention of marriage, however, was a cold awakening, like ice water dashed in his face.

"Alice, I'm sorry, but you've misjudged things between us. Marriage is the farthest thing from my mind. I think we need to end this before anyone gets hurt." He was gentle but blunt.

She gave no argument, letting his statement go in one ear and out the other. Things continued between them as before. She was the pursuer, he the pursued.

Jasper knew, however, beneath Alice's subtleness, she hoped to change his mind. He also knew that was not going to happen.

Jasper began thinking there was something wrong with him. Out of all the women he had dated, some very worthy candidates for serious relationships, he always found something lacking in them.

His detachment from any kind of emotional involvement left him with an emptiness that seemed to gnaw at him constantly. Only when he actively dealt with projects using his hands, such as building his house, did he find meaning in his life. It also kept his mind from bouncing around in his head with all his many dissatisfactions following the trauma that sent him to jail.

He glanced toward the door of the conference room where Bella counted her money, listening, and thinking he heard sounds from within. With that much money to count, she would probably remain on task for some time.

Leaving his chair and office, he took a leisurely stroll through the bank, greeting patrons, being available to employees who needed to ask him something, mostly just killing time.

Since Bella Swan was the most dramatic interruption in his life for many months, he kept thinking of her lovely face, the bouncy auburn-gold curls, the tall, petite figure with the shapely legs, and the deep fear flickering in her brown eyes. Letting his thoughts run an unguided course, Jasper's imagination took over.

He could visualize Bella dressed in a long slinky gown, her hair piled on top of her head, diamonds at her throat and ears. Then flicking to another scene, superimposed with lascivious visions, he imagined her dressed in a black lace see-through negligee, her long hair falling about her smooth velvety shoulders like polished silk.

Jasper shook his head to clear it, feeling a terrible need for a dramatic change in his lifestyle. He was living too much in his imagination instead of actively making memories he could look back on when he was too old to do little else.

He went across the street, lingered over a cup of coffee, exchanged a few words with the proprietor, and then sauntered back to his office. He continued reading the morning paper, put aside earlier upon Bella's arrival.

The afternoon moved on, the clock on his wall pushing toward late afternoon. Finally, putting the paper aside, which he could not concentrate on anyhow, he tapped lightly on the door to the adjoining room. He pushed the door open and peeked through the opening.

The money lay in stacks, and Bella's head rested in her arms upon the table. He walked quietly over to her and touched her shoulder. Her head snapped up with a jerk, and for a moment, she glanced about wildly with red, sleepy eyes.

"Oh!" she exclaimed when she saw him, recalling where she was, looking drugged from sleep.

"I'm sorry. I did not mean to startle you. Are you finished?" She took a minute to get her bearings, looking about tiredly.

"I think I am. I counted it twice and ended up with the same figure both times. The stacks are recorded here," she said handing him the yellow pad. Thereupon, she indicated where her head was resting when he came in. "I'm sorry, I was so tired…"

"No problem. You'll need to fill out these," he said, handing her an application for a checking account and savings account, and a deposit slip taken from a small table against the wall. Reaching inside the thick manila envelope, she took out the withdrawal slips she had saved. Handing them to him, she said,

"I forgot to give you these." She filled out the deposit slip, wrote in a seven figure amount that would have had anyone else bouncing off the walls with excitement.

With her, it seemed a matter of routine as she finished the deposit slip and handed it to Jasper. If she experienced awe of anything, it certainly was not money.

Obviously used to having whatever amount she needed at her fingertips, she took it for granted. Jasper did not. This amount of money deposited in his bank was a boon for his establishment.

Small town banks were not usually so lucky to have such wealthy clients. On the small table against the wall was a phone. Jasper picked it up and asked someone to step into the boardroom. He expected the head teller's surprise when she walked into the room.

Upon seeing the money on the table in front of the young woman closeted in the bank president's office all afternoon, the woman's mouth fell open and she gasped aloud.

"Did someone rob a bank?" she blurted out, looking from Jasper to the attractive woman sitting at the table. When her boss cleared his throat, she began apologizing profusely for her blunder. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean that."

"Jessica, take care of this for me. Here's the deposit slip and the information to open a checking and savings account."

Jessica looked at the deposit slip, her eyes growing extremely large. Then she looked at Jasper as though he had lost his mind.

"A checking and savings account?" No one in his or her right mind would put such an amount in a mere savings account. She kept casting furtive glances toward the young woman who looked more tired than rich.

"This is temporary just to safeguard the cash until she can make other investments. Right now she simply wants it in a safe place."

"Very well," Jessica said with raised brows, taking charge of what had to be done. Pulling Jessica aside he told her,

"This transaction is to be treated by all bank employees as completely confidential. Miss Swan's name is not to touch anyone's lips outside this bank or outside business. Anyone choosing to break that confidence will deal with me. Pass that on for me."

"Yes, sir," she replied, picking up the phone to call someone to help her.

"Are we finished?" Bella rose from her chair, stretching her shoulders and back. Jasper escorted her back to his office and closed the door on Jessica's inquisitive gaze.

"We'll wait for your receipt and temporary checks, and then I'll take you to the motel just up the street." He thought rather indelicately of inviting her home with him as his guest, but he knew that was stretching his business clientele relationship too far.

He was just as aware that his interest was not due simply to being a Good Samaritan. His male urges had been in overdrive since the moment he had seen her.

"I need to do a bit of shopping first," Bella said, brushing the wrinkles from her skirt, a tired, dejected dullness in her brown eyes. She was recalling her beautiful clothes hanging in her closet in Miami, the expensive lingerie filling the drawers in her dressing room. Now the only thing she owned were the clothes she wore, and the items in the duffel bag.

"What sort of things? You will not find a large selection in the shops here. Perhaps you'd prefer to go into Bozeman." He was well aware he was offering to take her. She knew it, too.

"I just need some jeans and shirts."

"I know just the place. I can take you there while we wait."

"I've already taken so much of your time. Why don't you just point the way to me?" Jasper sensed a dismissive tone in her voice, and was not ready for her dismissal.

"My time is your time. I will be glad to walk with you and introduce you to the proprietress. It's the least I can do since you'll need to come back here for your receipts and checks."

Bella gave him a tired smile and nodded. Jasper touched the tip of his fingers to her back and guided her from the bank while dozens of pairs of eyes watched their progress. The old gossiping grape vine was coming alive, as it had not done for some time.

Outside, a playful spring breeze lifted Bella's hair. A bank of fluffy white clouds floating by allowed the sun to shine brightly through the expanding opening. Jasper offered Bella the crook of his elbow and she tucked her fingers in it unabashedly. The physical contact was oddly pleasant. She was aware the gesture was personal, sensing Jasper's interest in her in the way he looked at her.

"A friend of mine has a shop where I think you'll find what you need," he told her, covering her fingers in the crook of his elbow with a hand that seemed weathered compared to the rest of him.

Walking, they came to a small women's shop down the street from the bank, diagonally across from the restaurant. Jasper opened the door and they stepped inside where he introduced Bella to his old friend.

"Hi, Angela, I've brought you a customer," he said, his manner friendly and personable. Angela raised thick brows over slightly sagging lids.

"It's nice of you to bring me a customer, Jazzy. Who do we have here?" She looked at Bella the way one might inspect a horse. She even turned Bella around in a circle to complete her inspection, forcing Jasper to step to one side.

"Bella, meet Angela," he said casually, smiling tolerantly at Angela's familiarity. With introductions out of the way, he took a chair in front of the store and browsed through a magazine found on a table.

"It's nice to meet you, Angela," Bella said, extending her small hand. Angela's eyebrows went up an inch as she touched a slightly damp palm. This one had manners. She wondered where Jasper found her.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Sweetpea. What can I do for you?" Angela was slightly overweight, had greying black hair, and wore no makeup. Her face was extremely pretty. Her colourful clothing fit nicely and complemented her pretty face.

"I'd like some jeans, a shirt, and lingerie." Angela showed Bella the racks of clothing containing her size, and Bella wasted no time gathering up the items she needed. When she piled them all on the counter, Angela turned a quizzical eye upon her.

"Wouldn't you like to try them on, Sweetie? They may not fit, you know."

"I'm sure they'll do nicely," Bella said, taking money from her purse to pay for the items. She was glad she remembered to keep a generous amount before depositing the rest. She would not need to start using checks until she got into much larger purchases.

She put three single Hundred Dollar bills on the counter. Angela looked at the bills, then at Bella. She raised her brows again.

"Sweetpea, you're not in New York City now. Less than half of that will more than pay for what you're buying." Jasper looked up from his magazine, listening.

Bella looked startled by the remark and pulled back one of the bills. Angela rang up the purchases and counted out the change.

"A word of warning, Sweetpea, you shouldn't go flashing those hundreds around so freely. People around here aren't used to seeing that much money." She looked at Jasper. "If she's banking with you, Jasper, you should advise her more carefully," she cautioned.

"Your advice is well taken, Angela," Jasper said shortly, as Angela gave him a quizzical stare and mentally tried to figure out what was going on with this gorgeous redhead and Jasper.

"Thank you," Bella said, dropping the bills and coins in her purse. She took the bag of apparel and headed toward the door with Jasper falling in beside her.

Her world seemed so haphazard in this strange little town. She was out of her element, a lonely, lost creature without a foundation beneath her. Depression hit her like a door slamming in her face.

"Is there anything else you need?" Jasper asked before turning the way they came.

"No, thank you. This should do nicely until I have more time to shop. Tomorrow I will need to purchase a car and go house hunting. Are there any properties you know of that are for sale?" she inquired, walking along beside him while he carried her packages.

"What exactly are you looking for?"

"Oh, I don't know; maybe something roomy, with a bit of land around it, in a good location, and preferably close to the interstate."

Her meaning was clear. She did not want to be in confined spaces preventing escape if the need arose.

"I'm sure our local realtor can help you. I don't suppose you'd be interested in renting instead of buying?"

"No, I don't think I'd like dealing with landlords. I have heard stories about how the plumbing can go bad, or roofs spring leaks, and a number of other inconveniences that can take days to repair. I'd rather be in charge of my own repairs."

"Then I'll be glad to introduce you tomorrow to Mr McCarthy, the realtor. Insofar as a car is concerned, I believe you will want to go into Bozeman. Our local car dealer only sells used models. What kind of car interests you?"

"I thought I'd like to look around a bit," she replied.

"Good idea," Jasper told her. "I'll be glad to take you." She showed surprise.

"You've been more than kind as it is," she said earnestly, thinking she needed to get her feet wet on her own. This was the first time she was in a position of having to look after herself.

While it was preferable having Jasper, or anyone at all, accompany her, it would be too easy to fall into the habit of depending upon him. As frightening as this new life was to her, she needed to learn how to manage on her own.

They went back to the bank, retrieved the paperwork and temporary checks from Jessica, and then Jasper marched Bella back out to his car.

"Mr. Hale…"

"Jasper," he reminded her.

"Jasper, you're really very kind, but I should probably get used to doing things for myself."

He backed out of the parking space and drove away before answering.

"And you shall, but it's only good business sense to treat a valued client with utmost courtesy," he said, lightly disposing of the idea of a more personal reason.

"But I mustn't take you from your work. The motel isn't so far away I can't walk, and I can take a cab to the city for a car."

"Bella, have you ever bought a car before?" he asked with questionable doubt.

"No, as a matter of fact I am quickly realizing there are many things I've never done," she replied in bewilderment.

Dejection hung heavy in her voice, and Jasper had the urge to wrap his arm about her shoulders and hold her until some of his strength flowed into her fragile limbs. He was attracted to her and had no qualms about getting in deeper.

"If you go alone to buy a car, you will most likely pay several thousand dollars more than the overall value. Those car salesmen love to see a woman coming. If I'm with you, you'll get a better deal."

"Then I suppose I should accept your generosity. However, please don't let me become a burden. Since I'm going to be on my own, I'd best learn how to manage."

"You'll be fine, Bella," he soothed in a kind voice, pulling up in front of the motel office. "Consider yourself among friends. These people here are close, friendly, and willing to help each other. You will have many friends in no time I am sure. Just do not expect too much of yourself too soon. It can't be easy starting over in a new place."

"That's probably good advice," she said as he climbed from the car and came around to open her car door. He took her inside and spoke to the desk clerk.

"Ben, this is a friend of mine. She needs one of your cleanest and best rooms."

"All our rooms are clean and best, Jasper. But I'll see the little lady is comfortable." He whipped out a register slip. "Just sign your name," he said, pushing the piece of paper toward her.

Bella quickly glanced toward Jasper, wishing she did not have to put her name to any paper. He seemed to understand her reluctance, and took the pen and signed his own name. Ben handed him the key.

"I'll see her to her room, but keep an eye out for her, will you? She's not used to being alone."

"We'll take good care of her, Jasper." Ben told him nicely, letting his eyes wander appreciatively over a slender, shapely figure.

Back in the car, Jasper drove through the lot and parked in front of the unit that matched the number on the key. With Bella's bag of purchases and the nearly empty duffel bag clutched to his chest, he unlocked the motel door with his other hand, and handed Bella the key.

The room smelled airy and clean, the bedding freshly laundered, and he mentally applauded Ben for airing the units out every day when they weren't in use.

Touching Bella's shoulder, he nudged her across the threshold and followed, placing her things on the bed.

"Will you be okay here?"

"I'm sure I'll be just fine. The bed looks comfortable. Sleep is what I need just now."

"Let me get you some ice," Jasper said quickly, picking up the plastic ice bucket and heading toward the ice machine.

She was probably used to room service, and she would not find it too accommodating here where they had no such thing. When he entered the room, the water in the shower was running. She had kicked off her shoes, and was putting her purchases on hangers. He put the ice bucket back in its place. Then he wrote his home and office number down for her.

"If you need anything at all," he said, handing her the piece of paper, "just call me." Her look at him was very intense, but kind.

Then she said softly, "I will. Thank you so much." She dredged up a friendly smile despite the overwhelming feeling of mounting depression at seeing the departing back of the only person she knew.

"Would you consider having a late supper with me, say about eight? That will give you some time to sleep." He was patronizing her, but she was the first interesting female he had encountered since leaving San Francisco and he was enjoying every minute of it.

"I'm really not sure I'll be up to going out," she stated apologetically.

"Why don't I call you about seven thirty, and if you're up to it, I'll stop by for you. We can go for fast food, or I can take you to a little steak house I go to frequently not far from here."

"I really don't have the appropriate clothing for a dinner engagement."

"Jeans and shirt are fine in most places around here. Most people wear about anything they're comfortable in."

"Except bankers," she teased lightly, gently raking her eyes up and down his grey suit.

He was a fine looking man, she thought. His mane of blonde hair, his chiselled features, his proud chin, and a smooth brow that hinted at faint worry lines, all seemed to reflect a responsible maturity. His lips drew her attention, and she wondered how many women those lips had kissed, wondered if he had been married, engaged, or simply unattached by choice.

"This is my banking uniform," he answered, smiling at the timid grin on her lips. "I'll call you, say around seven-thirty."

He left quickly before she could counter his statement. Bella locked the door and put on the night chain, leaning against it for several seconds, rethinking her activities since stepping off the bus in Windy Point.

Wherever her thoughts wandered to, they always came back to and centred on Jasper. He was interested in her and made no bones about his intention to be with her.

It was strange, she thought now, how just a few hours earlier she was certain she would never desire another man's company. Now, here she was thinking how fortunate she was to have Jasper in her corner. She knew she needed someone, a friend, and Jasper was the only person she knew.

She turned on the television, stripped off all her clothing and climbed into the shower.

Her thoughts flitted to Miami, to Edward, and to the brief conversation with Carlisle Mason. Desolation seemed to wash over her in the warm spray of water flowing upon her.

Thinking of yesterday was too painful; thinking of the moment seemed futile, and tomorrow seemed only a void. She had nothing to live for and nothing to look forward to in her future.

An explosion of tears burst forth and she slid down the shower wall on her haunches, the water pouring over her head and washing the salty tears down the drain.

With her thoughts trailing back to Miami, she could imagine the anger and furiousness felt by Edward. He would be in a killing mood, and she believed that if he ever got his hands on her he would follow through on his threat to kill her.

"Oh, God, help me," she cried in despair.


	13. Chapter 13

I don't own anything!

Chapter Twelve

Jasper decided against going back to the bank. Klaus would close up for him, and probably wonder what was going on. He had spent most of the day with a beautiful woman who knew nothing of the amount of interest she had stirred up in the little town of Windy Point.

By morning every man, woman and child for miles around would know there was a new face in town, and that he had patronized her like a bull in heat. While small towns had their good points, they, nevertheless, could make or break anyone with gossip.

Nothing happened in Windy Point that didn't receive its share of speculation, which would then be analysed time and again, passed on to anyone willing to listen, discussed extensively, and followed by every conceivable opinion, until the first story told had digressed to an entirely different story.

Everyone minded everyone else's business, and he would have to be careful not to let it touch Bella in view of her need for privacy. He was purposely overzealous, he supposed, so tired of his stick-in-the-mud life that Bella was the best diversion since he left San Francisco.

Flashes of a dangerous man pursuing Bella caused him to curse his lack of good sense for becoming involved with someone who was trouble waiting to happen.

She could not run forever. The time would come when her past would catch up with her. _What then? _If Jasper was smart, he thought, he would simply welcome her as a banking client, show her courtesy when their paths crossed, and go about his own affairs.

The problem was his affairs were so run-of-the-mill he might die of boredom if he didn't take advantage of nearly any diversion that presented itself. Bella was the only positive distraction to hit Windy Point in years. She was glamorous, beautiful, and carried herself like a gracious lady.

When he looked at the soft creamy texture of her skin, he could not help but wonder at the joy in touching his lips to her flesh, warming her blood with his kisses, tasting her lips, tantalizing the woman in her until her response to him became instantaneous and complete.

His manhood gave bold reply to his erotic ruminations reminding him he had not had a surge of passion such as this in so long he was beginning to doubt his own libido.

After he parked his car on his driveway, and went inside his house, he glanced about, wondering what he could occupy his time with until seven-thirty.

He put on an old pair of jeans and a polo shirt, turning on the television, and spreading out comfortably upon the sofa. Just starting to relax and doze, his phone began ringing, startling him awake. Turning down the volume on the television, he picked up the phone.

"Hello," he said, hoping it was not Alice.

"Jasper, what happened to you?" Alice's voice came through loud and clear, and Jasper gave a silent groan.

"What do you mean?" he asked evasively, knowing ahead of time what she would say.

"I mean you left the bank and didn't come back to lock up. Klaus had to do it. I waited for you, thinking you would come back. Where did you go?"

"I had other business to attend to," he lied, wanting to end the call quickly. "Alice, you caught me right in the middle of something. I have to go."

"Jasper! Did you forget what day this is? This is our evening to have dinner together. What time will you pick me up?"

"Oh, I forgot," he said, and really did forget with everything else happening. "I'm sorry, Alice, but I won't be able to make it tonight."

"This doesn't have something to do with that red headed woman who was in your bank today, does it?" She didn't just ask, she demanded to know.

Damn it, he thought, word had gotten around all ready. Alice would pitch one of her temperamental fits if she learned he was taking Bella out to dinner. Still, maybe that was just the thing to get her angry enough to quit calling him, he thought.

Nothing but good manners, thus far, had kept him from outright telling her to take a hike.

Jasper answered Alice's question, and he could hear the steam sizzling from her nostrils while she listened.

"The lady you mentioned is a bank client. I showed her the same courtesy I might show to anyone else." It was a lie. While he might buy a client a cup of coffee, he never once tried to make himself indispensable the way he had with Bella.

"Does that courtesy include taking her for coffee, taking her to Angela's shop, waiting while she made purchases, and then taking her to the local motel?" Her voice was as crisp as a raw cucumber, and obviously, she was boiling with anger and jealousy.

"Alice, I'm not going to discuss this with you. All you want is to fight about it, and frankly, I am not in the mood. I also need to remind you that I am not answerable to you. I do what I choose."

"Damn you, Jasper! I have not given you all these months of my life just to have you turn to some other woman. You owe me more than that. Did you think my going to bed with you was a freebie? Did you think I enjoyed you pawing me all over? I was doing it to make you happy, and now what do I get in return?"

"Alice…" he started to say, but she cut him off.

"I'm not going to stand by while you court your little red headed bitch. I'll scratch her damn eyes out if I have to!" She slammed down the receiver.

Jasper put the phone down and propped his head in his hands. What in the hell had he ever seen in Alice? She was bitchy, temperamental and demanding. Now, she had just thrown the ultimate criticism in his face, their sex life.

She spoke of it as though he forced her, even though she initiated every sexual encounter—even if he was receptive. Her statement, accusing him of pawing her, suddenly left him feeling cold and disgusted. He should have broken it off with her long ago. It was something that needed doing.

Turning the television sound up again, Jasper lay there watching the flickering scenes without registering any of it. Alice's phone call left his mind lying in a deep quagmire of dissatisfaction.

Before his father's death, he knew where he wanted to go, what he wanted to do, what he wanted to be. All that changed when he inherited the job of overseeing his father's bank.

His brother wisely reached out for what he wanted. He invested his inheritance from his father in real estate, finally becoming a realtor. He also opened a traveling agency, run by his wife.

The last Jasper heard of him, he was still looking into other investments. Why hadn't he taken the same initiative? Someone else could have managed the bank. He could have gone in pursuit of his dream in the field of architecture and construction.

The six years he had actually spent gainfully employed in his occupation marked the best time of his life. Visualizing a building growing beneath his fingertips as he laboured with intricate detail over the drawings gave him purpose. He made lots of money in those six years, and became earmarked to make lots more from the builders who favoured his work over other architects. Being in demand for what he loved best fired his ambition like nothing else could.

Then his father and stepmother died—were murdered—and the ensuing circumstances uprooted his whole life, literally displacing him from everything once important to him.

Going into his father's bank marked the ultimate betrayal to his dreams. He was certain it must be his sense of responsibility to family, which the old man drummed and instilled into his head causing him to forsake his architectural career. Of course, there was the fact that while he rotted in jail, selling out was his only option. Stuck in jail without bond, his loses rose daily, until selling was the only worthwhile alternative. After his trial, it was too late to pick up the pieces of his life.

His last hope evolved from the only option available to him, to start at the bottom and work his way up again. His father's bank provided the means. He took it over on a temporary basis at the time, thinking to hire a replacement in the near future. With everything that happened thereafter, however, his dream of going back to his architectural pursuits faded into the background.

Hopes and dreams merged into a kind of passive neglect. He assuredly dug the grave and buried his life when he sold the beautiful office building in San Francisco, designed and built by him, it standing as a reflection of his dedication and ability.

He sunk his life into that building, encompassing debt up to his ears. Then the jobs started pouring in, along with the money. All of his hard work and effort went down the tube after his arrest for the murder of his father and stepmother.

What money he had left was now in investments earning interest or shares. He was not broke by a long shot, but he might as well be, considering the absence of enjoyment in his life. He would gladly sink everything he owned into another career in architecture if he could tear himself from the bank.

Only one single thing held him back, the truth surrounding the deaths of his father and stepmother. Although a jury found him not guilty, his exoneration would never be complete until he knew who killed them.

Jasper must have dozed. When he opened his eyes, distracted by some loud noise on television, the clock blinked seven-fifteen, almost time to call Bella.

He crawled off the sofa, heading for the bathroom where he showered, shaved, bushed his teeth, and combed his hair.

He went to his room, pulled on Levi's, a shirt, and boots. He lifted the phone and called her. Her voice, sounding drugged by recent sleep, was barely audible when she answered.

"Bella?" he said softly and waited for an answer.

"Yes?" she murmured through what sounded like a yawn.

"This is Jasper. Shall I pick you up for dinner?" As sleepy as she sounded, he was sure she would say no.

"Yes, I'm famished."

"Then I'll see you in a little while," he said, and hung up the phone, a rare electrical charge of pleasure cascading through his torso and limbs, growing into honest excitement. He hadn't felt such a rush of anticipation since before his incarceration.

Taking only a few minutes to drive there, Jasper rapped softly on the door, and then waited. Silence greeted him. He rapped again, this time louder, impatience growing. Finally, the door opened just a crack. The night chain was still in place.

"Jasper, is that you?" she inquired, peeking through the opening, her voice still groggy with the last dredges of sleep.

"Yes, it's me, Bella." The sound of her voice made him eager, anxious to see her. She pushed the door closed and unhooked the chain. After opening the door, she lifted her fist to her eyes, rubbing them generously.

She wore a long white satiny nightgown, purchased from Angela's shop, and a loose robe. She presented an exact image of Jasper's visually concocted perceptions of her in a long negligee.

Jasper's gaze drank in a gorgeous figure, it barely concealed by the gown that flaunted warm dips and curves, while the robe gaped open. A low neckline exposed the upper mounds of swollen breasts with a noticeable cleavage between them, the skin creamy and soft.

The light behind her put her in pale silhouette, and her full head of hair, edged with auburn highlights, was slightly ruffled and mussed to exhibit a tousled appearance that was both alluring and seductive. She exuded a kind of magnetism Jasper found fatally irresistible.

"I fell back to sleep after you called," she murmured, turning her back and going to sit on the edge of the bed, obviously struggling to come awake from emotional tiredness rather than sleepiness.

The robe fell open on both sides, and the satiny smoothness of the gown shimmered against her tempting contours. Jasper closed the door. A nearly overpowering urge shook his usual reserve while his arms ached to hold her. Her warmth and softness beckoned him with alarming appeal, forcing him to muster control over his recalcitrant longings.

He stood watching her, his eyes roving freely while hers blinked awake slowly. Leaning forward with her arms pressed across her knees, her breast were visible and ripe buds protruded like tasty fruits as her gown fell open.

Jasper kept silent, lest he disturb that heady pose that catapulted all his senses and sent his hormones expanding like heat molecules.

"I don't think I've ever been so tried and sleepy," she declared, sitting up straight again, sobering Jasper's rising pulses.

"Bella, perhaps you should splash a bit of water on your face," he suggested, nursing a tinge of dread that she might change her mind and send him away. Those peaked breasts with tender pink rosebuds had assaulted his senses, and while he knew he could not exercise the hormonal urge building by quick degrees, he, nevertheless, wanted to be with her to relish his sudden new feeling of maleness. They were not on the same wavelengths.

"I don't know why I feel so tired," she said, raising her head to meet his blue eyes, allowing her gaze to pass down the length of him. She paused briefly at his pointed-toe boots, then her gaze climbed back up to his face again, a warm impersonal appreciation lighting her eyes.

"You look different."

"Is that good or bad?" he asked in a friendly tone that struck a note of familiarity and humour.

"Neither," she replied honestly. "It's just an observation." Jasper twisted his head about, sending her an oblique glance.

"Well, like I said, people around here wear about anything that is comfortable."

She expelled a breathy sigh, and yawned.

"You're probably tired from being in a strange environment and being separated from what is familiar. I suppose you can compare it to jet lag. You'll feel better in a day or two."

"I hope so," she said, rubbing her eyes again.

"I'll wet a washcloth for you," Jasper offered, moving toward the bathroom. What he really needed was cold water splashed on his own face, after observing a seductive angel with shimmering white satin cascading down her shapely figure.

When he returned with the wet cloth in his hand, Bella pushed herself to a standing position, looking like a lovely Goddess in the long gown and robe. He stopped short of her lovely visage and stood staring at her.

She took a step toward him, reaching for the washcloth he held out to her. Her foot struck something on the carpet, her shoe, and she went flying toward him, head and shoulders first.

The washcloth fell from his hand. His arms flew out, encircling her after she collided with his chest. He held her comfortingly, pulling her against him, a sudden sensation of warmth filling his head and chest.

Her body felt good, fit his arms perfectly. She was soft everywhere he touched, everywhere her body pressed against him. Sensuous warmth seemed to flow from her, invading all of him.

Her scent was fresh and clean like fragrant soap, and he found his nose nestled in her hair, his lips touching the delicate skin of her throat. Her thighs pressed against his while her breast crushed softly against his chest.

He felt his manhood responding to her closeness, and nothing in his mind could cause him to break the embrace, or control his overactive body responses.

Bella mentally assessed the powerful muscles of his chest and shoulders. His arms seemed to absorb her like a sponge. Her brain felt tingly and warm, similar to when she had drunk too much wine.

She lay her head against his shoulder, it hard and firm against her cheek. His masculinity provided a compelling and powerful additive that catered to some unfulfilled need inside her.

For a couple of minutes, they remained locked in each other's embrace. Bella's arms encircled him, her palms and flayed fingers pressing against the reflexive muscles of his back.

When she raised her head from his shoulder and looked at him, words seemed empty, even useless now. He pushed strands of hair from her cheek, returning her unswerving gaze.

She felt the heated hardness of his manhood pressed against her, it jolting some deep, inner need that had never been satisfied, while at the same time drawing upon the reluctance previously inspired by Edward's brutality.

The thought of Edward jolted her and she stepped away from Jasper, his hand still clinging to her arms with a seemingly disinclination to let go. She looked at him beseechingly, a deep sadness underlying what she said next.

"I'm not me right now, Jasper," she said softly, tilting her head forward bashfully. "I can't tell you how long it has been since someone held me in comforting arms. Please don't misunderstand my response."

"Bella…" Jasper said, moving toward her. She lifted her hand, the palm touching his chest.

"No, I'll just be a moment," she said, stepping past him to take her jeans, shirt, and under-things from a hanger before going into the bathroom.

A small table with two chairs stood at the front of the room beneath a draped window. Jasper took a chair, his body echoing deep, pleasant feelings and longings. His infatuation was strong and potent.

This beautiful girl, who stepped into his life at just the time when he didn't think he could handle the day-to-day routine any longer, was tempting some powerful emotions in his boring life.


	14. Chapter 14

I don't own anything!

Chapter Thirteen

When the bathroom door opened, Jasper looked up, smiling faintly at Bella's appearance. She looked like a teenager in jeans with the baggy T-shirt hanging loosely over her shoulders and breasts.

She returned his smile, her sparkling white teeth glistening behind full rosy lips. She took her sneakers from the duffel bag and slid them on without socks. Rising, she took a hairbrush from the mirrored vanity and ran it through her hair. All the time Jasper watched her, observing her indulgently while the pulse throbbed at the base of his neck and temple.

"Your hair is gorgeous, Bella. I've never seen a colour quite like yours"

The compliment exposed his personal thoughts, and aired a kind of unspoken understanding that any further interaction between them from here on would be personal. She blushed, and then smiled, handling his compliment with humour.

"You should have seen me as a blonde," she teased, putting down the hairbrush and coming to stand beside him, her hand resting on the chair-back. "I stuffed it in a trash can when I stayed overnight in Bozeman." Jasper stood up.

"Good choice. Blonde hair can't compare to that gorgeous gold colour you have. Are you ready?" Bella smiled shyly and nodded.

Their conversation had turned personal, and suddenly she felt like she was out on a limb. After five years of socializing with a bunch of foul-mouthed drunken men and petty women who were also drunks, while sitting back listening and observing rather than talking, what did one say to a normal person on a social outing?

"Do you have your key?" he remembered to ask before closing the door behind them. She darted back inside, found the key and put it in her purse. Re-joining him by his car where he held the door open, she slid inside and made herself comfortable.

"Ben would have let you in, but the only thing that upsets him is being awaken after he turns in for the night." He cranked the car and pulled out onto the street.

"Is he upset at the late guests who stop for the night?" Bella asked.

"Yes, even late guests. He thinks everyone should keep daytime hours."

"You can tell he's lived here all his life," Bella suggested, thinking of the people she and Edward knew who kept late hours at night and slept in during the morning.

"City life would definitely upset him with its busy round the clock pace." A lazy dazzling smile swept across Jasper's tanned face.

"City life wouldn't agree with him at all. He keeps the same hours as most other working people here in Windy Point. Here we have an early-to-bed, early-to-rise community."

"Are you part of the status quo?" Bella asked. "Somehow you don't seem to fit the mold of a small town banker who goes to bed at dusk and wakes up with the sun."

"Bad habits are acquired easily, good ones with more effort," he laughed. "I have my share of both as it suits my purpose. I'm capable of adapting to whatever my environment requires."

"Have you always lived here?"

"I was born here, and after high school there was college. I spent a few years in San Francisco, and then came back here to run my father's bank after his death."

"I wonder why we didn't meet that time when my folks brought me here."

"If it was in the summertime, my brother and I were likely away at summer camp."

"If I recall, I believe it was in the summertime. Is banking what you wanted to do?" she asked, watching the sensual mold of his firm mouth, the arrogant cut of his chin and jaw, and his compelling good looks.

She knew it would be all too easy to become attracted to him, if for no other reason than the need for human companionship. A flicker of seriousness crossed his features and disappeared just as quickly.

"I had other plans until my father died, but somebody had to run the bank. There was no one but me. What about you? Did you ever wish you could go back and change things, live your life differently?" She glanced out of the car window, seeing the small town sliding past them as they neared the outskirts of another small town.

"You are kidding, of course."

"Kidding? Why do you think I'm kidding?"

"The very fact that I'm here talking to you right this minute is indicative of my desire to totally erase my life for the past five years. Yes, to answer your question, I'd like to change it, but sadly, we don't have the choice of rectifying the past through hindsight."

"No, we don't, but I've known people who dwell on past mistakes as if they might reshape them somehow."

"Do you do that Jasper; try to reshape your past mistakes, I mean?"

"Aren't we all a little guilty of doing that? I suppose I have often wondered on the phrase, _what if_. What if I had done this, or what if I had done that? Perhaps it's a method we use to learn how to prevent making the same mistakes twice."

"Well, I suppose from that perspective, there might be some value in supposition. None of us wants to suffer repeated tragedies."

"What tragedies have you suffered, Bella—or is that question too personal?"

She took a deep breath and exhaled.

"It's personal, Jasper. I don't know you well enough to share such confidences."

"If you knew me better, would you share them?"

"Is that one of those _what if _questions?" He chuckled.

"Okay, you caught me. I am prying, so I will change the subject. I hope you like steak. A friend of mine has a steak house with the finest steaks found anywhere. If you don't like steaks, he also serves seafood."

"Steak sounds great. I feel like I could eat about anything right now."

A few minutes later, Jasper pulled into a jammed parking lot below a steak house sign, and turned off the engine. He reached across the seat and briefly squeezed Bella's hand.

"I'm glad you decided to have dinner with me," he said before getting out of the car. His touch seemed entirely personal now, Bella thought; the serious banker image now shed, or exchanged for a more light-hearted persona.

He opened Bella's car door and took her hand, gently pulling her from the seat and up against him. He needed no encouragement as he slid both arms around her waist, savouring her closeness as long as he dared before moving back from the car to close the door.

There had been many women in his life, at college, in San Francisco, in Bozeman, and locally; yet, he could not recall any of them fitting quite as perfectly in his arms as Bella did. His arm encircled her waist possessively and they went inside.

"Hey there, Jasper, we've missed you. I haven't seen you in a while," the cashier, owner, manager said. The man's close examination left nothing to the imagination as he scrutinized Bella carefully.

"I've been busy. How's it going, Felix?" Jasper asked, reaching out his hand in greeting.

"Got a full house tonight, so I can't complain," Felix replied, shaking Jasper's hand, while he stared at Bella. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Isabella," Jasper said, his left hand giving a tiny squeeze to Bella's waist.

"Nice to meet you, Isabella," Felix said, glancing from Bella to Jasper, tempted to ask where he found such a delectable doll.

He held his tongue, however, knowing that gossip would soon provide him the information sought. He, among others, had advised Jasper many times to ditch Alice.

She was not right for him, never had been, and never would be. His bear-like paw squeezed Bella's hand lightly and released it. Bella gave him a warm smile, aware that Jasper's arm felt wonderfully protective about her. She liked the feel of his arms, the touch of his hands, them warm and reassuring.

She breathed deeply of Jasper's spicy scent, laying her palm over his hand at her waist. The strong muscular arms bulging against the fabric of his shirtsleeves sparked an intimate thrill that raced along Bella's spine.

_It's just relief at having a friend in a strange place_, she assured herself. To dare imagine her feelings might be more enterprising would be preposterous after the hell she had suffered with Edward.

"Do you have an empty table for us, Felix?" Jasper asked, glancing over the crowded room of diners, seeing people he knew. It dawned on him that Alice and everyone in town would know about his dinner companion by tomorrow. The grapevine of gossipers never rested.

"I believe one table is vacant. Give them a minute to clear it and you can seat yourself. It's over there in that dark little corner." He gave Jasper a sly grin and winked.

Bella pretended not to notice. When the waiter finished clearing the table, Jasper escorted Bella across the noisy, crowded room. He nodded his head, returning greetings to several people who called out to him while eying Bella with interest.

Everyone knew Jasper, and he seemed to know everybody, Bella thought. While she wasn't aware of anyone noticing her in particular, everyone was. She could not have known, but in a small town such as this one, she was big news. Any new person to the area became worthy of a great deal of speculation, sometimes good, sometimes bad.

The fact that Jasper, the most eligible bachelor for miles around was her escort, they would draw a wave of wagging tongues. It was not until she and Jasper sat down at the small square table that she noticed sly glances darting toward them.

"Why are those people looking at us, Jasper?" she whispered, always a little paranoiac because of her fear of Edward finding her.

"They're curious. You're a new face around these parts, and everyone is wondering who the beautiful lady is that's spending the evening with me," he laughed softly.

"Jasper, there's a question I need to ask you. You're not married or…"

"Or taken?" he filled in for her, smiling. "No, neither. I'm unattached." That knowledge made her feel better.

"Good, I would hate to think they're staring because I'm out with a married man." The casual atmosphere was so pleasing she could nearly forget that she was running away from a monster and that her life remained in jeopardy if he should find her.

When she turned her brightest smile upon Jasper, he looked longingly at her lips. She could not begin to imagine the strength of his urge to kiss her, it growing stronger by the minute.

The waiter gave them menus and took Jasper's wine order.

"Why have you never married?" Bella asked when the waiter walked away.

"I suppose I've been busy doing other things."

"Most men are busy, but they find time for home and family." He looked away, either thoughtful about his answer or trying to find a way to evade the question. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry." Bella stated after his lengthy pause.

"Would you believe I've just never met the woman I want to spend my life with?" he asked good-naturedly, grinning. She sent him a sidewise glance.

"Is that because you're hard to please, or just not interested in marriage?"

"Well, I suppose you can say I'm selective instead of hard to please, and I do plan to marry someday. It just has to be with the right woman." He appeared amused and his attitude was playfully humorous.

"You're never very serious when you're away from the bank, are you?"

"One must wear many hats," he grinned with a sparkle in his blue eyes.

She searched his face, thinking a hat was the only thing missing from his attire that would have given him the appearance of a real Montana cowboy.

"Yes, I suppose one does," she agreed with a sardonic grin.

Their eyes met and held for an instant, something clicked between them, just a subtle flash of deep feeling, and then it was gone. Bella lowered her eyes, and was thankful for the waiter's timely interruption as he poured glasses of wine and took their food order.

"You'll find that here most people refuse to be rushed. The food is worth the wait though," said Jasper, when the waiter went away.

"I don't mind waiting. This is a pleasant change for me," she said, thinking of Edward and his drunken friends whom she had despised.

Jasper helped her forget, in lapses, the hell of what she had left behind and the fear of her past catching up with her.

"A pleasant change from the motel room, or am I to understand that you're referring to your life in Miami?" She searched his face a moment, and then smiled.

"Jasper, you're a sly one, you are. You don't miss an opportunity to learn more about me." He reached across the table and took her hand, smiling.

"Well, what's wrong with that? I want to know more about you."

"What's wrong with that is that you don't disclose anything about yourself. Have you heard of the sharing game—I tell you something, and then you tell me something?" His eyes were laughing at her.

"You'd be bored to death," he grinned.

"I think I'd be the best judge of that," she smiled.

His lightness of manner had relaxed her enough she could almost forget her fears associated with Edward—almost. The time quickly moved past nine, and toward the front of the large dining room was a platform where a group of musicians started setting up their instruments. A small dance floor was next to the platform.

"You didn't tell me they had a band. I thought it was just a restaurant."

"There's not a great deal of entertainment around our small town, so proprietors take advantage of what people like and turn it into money-making enterprises. After the dinner crowd leaves, you will see an entirely new group fill the tables. They are more like party animals than the ones you see now. Do you dance?" he asked as an afterthought.

"I have been known to," she said, remembering it as about the only thing she and Edward did well together. He actually taught her to dance. Her high school dances proved less than instructive.

"I assume the after nine group you speak of are the exception to the early to bed, early to rise crowd."

"They are the nonconformists," he chuckled.

They sat silent as they watched the band set up and test their instruments in a cacophony of sounds contrasting against each other. The waiter brought their food, and Jasper was right. The steaks were delicious, juicy and tender. The earlier diners were beginning to clear out, and Bella did not feel the unbidden stare of curious eyes. She found it easier to relax and enjoy her meal, and shortly after they began eating, the band struck up a soft arrangement of dinner music for the last diners of the evening.

"Jasper, this one's for you and your lovely lady," one of the band members said over the mike, quickly drawing Bella's attention. Jasper nodded his head in acknowledgment, turning his eyes and attention back to his _lovely lady_.

"Do you know everybody?" Bella asked with amusement

"Everybody knows everybody else in a small community."

"And is everyone as well liked as you?"

"They treat me well because I handle their money," he teased.

"What an original idea," she said raising her brows cynically in jest.

When she looked at him, he was smiling mischievously. His humour was fetching and she chuckled happily. Jasper Hale was good for her. He brought out the best in her.


	15. Chapter 15

I don't own anything!

Chapter Fourteen

By the time Bella and Jasper finished eating, most of the other diners had left. The busboy cleared tables of all signs of the dinner crowd. New patrons quickly began filing in, taking tables and ordering drinks while the band increased the tempo of their music, changing intermittently between soft slow-dance music and rock and roll.

When they played a slow number, Jasper asked Bella to dance. She looked at him sceptically at first, and then reaching out for his hand, she rose and let him lead her to the dance floor.

Jasper swept Bella into his arms, and with his hand on her back steering her to his steps, they danced in perfect unison to the music. He was an excellent dancer and Bella swayed in his arms weightlessly.

She basked in a glow of warmth encompassing a sense of well-being that lured long denied yearnings to the surface. The relaxed atmosphere and his pleasant company delighted her.

The music spoke the language of love like the throbbing heartbeats of lovers. The mood was romantic and sensuous, and when Bella raised her head to meet Jasper's eyes, she suddenly felt shy and overheated beneath the warmth of his gaze.

He kissed her cheek, then her ear, trailing a path of kisses to her neck and throat. The kisses, tickled. They titillated. She wanted to lose herself in the sweetness of the music, the protective warmth of Jasper's arms, and the light-hearted gaiety of an unusually pleasant evening.

While she would gladly forget Edward in exchange for the kind of normalcy she and Jasper were enjoying, she could not. He was at the core of all her thoughts, haunting the long denied moments of enjoyment.

"Shall we dance again?" Jasper asked when the song ended and another began.

"I think not," she said, and felt his arm encircling her waist, making her feel so at one with him.

Before he would permit her to take a seat, he pulled the table away from the wall, and put their chairs side by side so they would be facing the band. When they both sat down, his arm eased across her shoulders, and he pulled her against him, no concern at all for the constant looks darting their way.

"Comfortable?" he asked, kissing her ear.

"Jasper, please don't do that," she said breathlessly. No one had ever kissed her before except Edward, whose kisses disgusted her.

Jasper's kisses, however, kindled a warm glow that spread across her like the effects of a fine vintage wine.

"Why not?" he whispered in her ear. "Don't you like it?" His voice held a tone of teasing

"Yes… no…I mean… oh, just please don't do it."

"It's going to be kind of hard to stop," he said, his face buried in her hair, "unless I push the table back against the wall, and put you across from me again." He did not intend on doing that.

"Then maybe we should push the table back," she suggested seriously, as though in deep conference over resolving a problem.

A smile touched Jasper's lips, and he breathed a deep sigh, forcing himself not to kiss her. He kept his arm across her shoulder, his hand toying with her arm, his fingers gliding up and down, or making tiny circles beneath the sleeve of her shirt.

Once or twice she reached up and covered his hand with hers, halting his caresses. As soon as she moved her hand away, they started again. Jasper would like nothing better than for the night not to end.

He could not recall any other woman whom he had been so attracted to in every possible way, as he was Bella. She was adorable, passionate, soft, tender, and so very lovable. His mind flitted to a vision of what joy it would be to have just one night with her enfolded in his arms with the texture of her creamy body glued to his, while he buried his need deep inside her.

"Would you like to dance again?" he whispered close to her ear, his face buried in her clean scented hair, wanting to dance so he would have an excuse to hold her.

"I don't know. Perhaps we should leave. It's getting late, and I do have much to do tomorrow."

"Just one more dance, and I promise I'll escort you tomorrow wherever you need to go."

"What about your bank? Don't you have to work?" His breath was against her cheek, his arm steadfast about her shoulders, his fingers brushing caresses on her arm. His closeness was intoxicating, causing her heart to beat faster.

His touch and closeness stimulated every nerve in her body. An aura of expectancy, so unlike anything known with Edward, surrounded her. Jasper, unknowingly, touched a deep need inside her that was both exhilarating and frightening.

She wanted to slow things down, keep Jasper friendly but personally distant, but she knew the evening had gently pushed them beyond that point.

"That's the nice part about being one's own boss. I can take off when I want."

He kissed her ear, the gesture seeming as natural as breathing, her closeness a heady tonic. Her loveliness created a need that, once fulfilled, he believed, could provide the missing link to his less than happy existence.

"Let's dance," he said, touching his tongue to her ear with arousing pleasure.

"Jasper, you really mustn't," she whispered meekly, her every resolve wrung from her by the mere touch of his lips on her flesh.

Jasper's warm hand closed around hers, and Bella rose with unimpaired grace while holding his hand and letting him lead her to the dance floor, all the while feeling very special by his absorbed attention.

Deprived of affection for such a long time, any hint of it was worthy of raising her spirits. Jasper stopped by the band and whispered something to one of the musicians. Then wrapping his arms about Bella, he danced her onto the floor, absorbing her body against his to the soft composition of a melody she did not recognize. When the tune ended and Jasper kept dancing, the bandleader smiled toward them and said,

"One more time for Jasper and his lady." They played the same song again, and Jasper and Bella kept dancing, the music a romantic rendition with dreamy words of love. Bella lifted her face to his.

"Are each of your dates referred to as your lady?" Jasper touched his lips to hers, just a feather kiss, but oh, so provocative. Their eyes caught and held as the band moved into another number without a break between the two pieces.

"You're the only lady I've ever brought here," he smiled.

"Why do I feel you've just danced around my question?"

For an answer, he kissed her ear and nuzzled his face in her long hair, and asked, "Is it really important?"

"Probably not," she replied teasingly.

She sent him a badly contrived smile, wondering how many other _ladies _he'd held on this dance floor. Probably many, she thought. It occurred to her that Jasper really enjoyed a good time with laughter and carefree living.

Still, there was that element of seriousness about him, too, in well-balanced proportions. One of the fellows groaned out the words to a love song, and all the eyes in the house trained a straight gaze toward Jasper and Bella. Sly remarks were made, bets placed, and opinions aired.

Three women sitting at a table together shot Bella with imaginary arrows of envy and discussed how numerous women had tried to ensnare Jasper, the most eligible bachelor in the county. If Jasper knew he and Bella were drawing a great deal of attention, he seemed not to notice.

His interest focused entirely upon her as he drew her soft body against his. Bella was not immune to his sexual proclivity. When he buried his face in her hair, and his breath touched her ear like a fanning butterfly wing, it aroused longings all new and wonderful.

The surge of warmth in her blood left an exquisite ache at the core of her womanhood. If he was trying to seduce her, he was doing a much better job than Edward had ever done.

Surrendering to the pleasure of the moment, the sudden thought of Edward invaded her pleasant mood, bringing back an outpouring of memories so horrible they soured everything for her. She had run away from him, but she could not get away from him even with miles separating them. He was like a parasite feasting on her mind, spoiling any chance of peace or pleasure.

"Jasper, I'd like to sit down," she said, suddenly feeling ill.

He did not argue, and escorted her off the floor, sensing her changed mood. After they sat down, she turned to him, her eyes no longer bright with humour and delight. Her face was flushed and her expression clouded with doubt, uncertainty, and confusion.

"If you don't mind, I really would like to leave now," she said, hiding the soft quiver of her chin in her cupped hand.

"Okay," he said, gently touching his lips to her cheek, and motioning for the waiter to bring the tab. He slipped a bill to the waiter, said good night, and guided Bella toward the door.

"Jazz, don't stay away so long next time," Felix told him when they passed the front counter, "and bring back your lovely young lady."

"You can count on it. Night, Felix," Jasper said, and escorted Bella out the door.

When he looked at his watch, it was nearly midnight still not wanting the night to end, he drove as slowly as he dared on the way to the motel.

Bella sat on the far side of the seat. When Jasper touched her hand, giving a little tug to get her to slide closer to him, she shook her head, refusing. For a little while, she had allowed herself to forget everything, forget why she ran away, why she was in Montana, why she was alone.

Unconsciously, she had reached out to the first person whom she met to fill up that awful void. In a matter of a few hours, she was already leaning upon Jasper's strength.

How easy, she thought, to fall prey to someone who could make things seem so pleasant and carefree. It was not what she wanted. She did not want to fall into another trap such as Edward had devised for her.

"Are you okay, Bella?" Jasper asked, a feeling of tenderness making his voice unusually gentle.

"Yes," she answered, knowing it was a lie.

Her emotions were in turmoil. She could not make sense out of her feelings. It was not normal to feel attached to Jasper after one evening with him. In fact, she knew how dangerous it was. Hadn't she done the same with Edward, and regretted ever having met him?

Edward swept her off her feet the first time they met. He took her to the disco club as if luring her into his den. Needing his help to prevent her mother finding out about her reckless driving, she had been one-hundred percent compliable to his attentions. He made her feel beautiful and important, and in the following days, his words, his kisses, and his touches had all been her undoing.

If not for that wreck, she would not be in this predicament now. Further, if she had been more mature, she might have made better choices rather than becoming involved with a man old enough to be her father.

Oh, it had been wonderful with Edward in the very beginning, but all things have their season, and her and Edward's season had come and gone all too quickly. Her mind tripped back to the time when her parents were in her life, offering love and safety, which she shunned in exchange for Edward Cullen. _Oh, mama and dad, I need you so much_, an inner voice cried.

"Bella, you're very quiet," Jasper said, reaching across the seat to take her hand. His fingers warmed the chill of her hand, but nothing could warm the chill of her soul. Edward had defiled her, leaving her haunted by guilt, fear, and revulsion.

"I'm sorry. I am not exactly the best company right now. I have a great deal on my mind."

"You've been wonderful company," he said softly, squeezing her hand.

"Thank you for an excellent evening." He was pulling up in front of her motel door.

He turned off the engine, and sat for a moment, looking at her before he climbed from the car and walked around to open her door. Bella dug in her purse for her key and had it ready when he reached in to help her from the car.

She slid her small hand in his larger one, rising from the seat of the car and stepping aside so Jasper could close the door. Briefly, he pulled her against him before they walked to her room.

Her hands shook noticeably, her fingers still feeling cold even though the night was warm. Jasper took the key from her and unlocked the door. He turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

"Your hands are like ice," he said, warming them with his, keeping her standing outside the door. She pulled her hands away and gazed into the room.

"Did I leave the light on before I left?" Her voice took on an edge of apprehension.

"I believe you did," he said, and knew she feared someone might be inside the room. He went in before her, looked about the room then went to the bathroom and peeked in. Only then did she step across the threshold, looking mildly relieved.

"Will you be all right?" The two of them stopped at the foot of the bed. Wrapping his arms about her, he felt her lean heavily against his chest, their thighs brushing with heated friction.

"Yes, I'll be all right," she said, sounding as though she did not believe it. What she really wanted to say was, stay with me. Don't go. Please do not leave me. However, she knew better than give in to the temptation. She was too vulnerable, and his nearness was prompting too many contradictions, some extremely pleasant, others frightening and troublesome. He lifted one arm from about her and touched his hand to her cheek.

"Do you still have my telephone number?"

"Yes, it's in my purse." She was clinging to Jasper without even realizing it.

"You know you can call me, no matter what time it is, if you need me." His finger traced a path down her cheek and across her lips.

Then when she opened her mouth to answer, he planted his mouth on hers, his tongue gently testing her resistance by thrusting lightly into the cavern of satin smoothness. She held back at first, and then came a slow, unfurling response. Her tongue met his in a warring dance of advance and retreat until their passions turned to sultry heat infusing and consuming them. It was too good to last. Like a strike of lightning, she pulled away, sucking in a big breath of air, her face flushed.

"No, we mustn't." Her voice was soft, but shook with emotion, her body trembling in waves, a mixture of passion and fear totally unbalancing her.

"It's okay," he said, still holding her. "Get a good night's sleep and I'll pick you up at seven-thirty. We'll have breakfast, and then I'll take you to Bozeman for a car."

"I don't know," she whispered doubtfully. "You've been so kind all ready. I don't feel right taking up so much of your time."

"That's absurd. Don't you know how much I've enjoyed being with you?" He touched her cheek, his thumb nuzzling her cheekbone softly. Then she said it, turning away as she did.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Bella. Nothing is going to happen that you don't want to happen."

"There's so much you don't know, can't possibly understand," she blurted out, turning to face him.

"And you'll tell me when the time is right." Her chin and lips quivered, and he put his arms around her again. Her head lay comfortably against his shoulder, her hands reaching up to lie flat on his chest.

She nestled against him affectionately, prolonging the comfort his arms offered, fending away the fear that would enshroud her the minute he walked out the door. Jasper pulled away first, holding her at arm's length.

"I'll go now, and I'll see you in the morning," he whispered softly, touching her lips gently with his before backing away. The frightened look on her face touched a stream of humanity in him.

When he was out the door, she closed it behind him. She put the night chain on and threw the deadbolt in place. She leaned back heavily against the painted wood door, breathing deeply, willing her trembling body to relax.

She should have told him not to come back. It was not far to the small restaurant. She could walk. She could also take a bus or a cab into Bozeman where she could buy a car and do some shopping.

She had been dependent upon someone all her life. Growing dependent upon Jasper could become an addiction she dared not allow. Maybe he would call first in the morning to wake her, and then she would tell him she could manage without him.

With that thought in mind, she took off her clothes, took another shower, and dressed for bed. Night-time was more frightening than any other time, the darkness holding all sorts of imagined threats. She left the bathroom light burning, it spilling a stream of soft light across the room.

She crawled into bed, staring a long time at the ceiling while thoughts pounded her weary brain. Edward still refused to allow her to ignore him, as he claimed priority attention in her ruminations.

Jasper drove home with thoughts so intense his shoulders grew stiff and rigid. He understood Bella's fear; at least, he thought he did. However, he could not understand his own feelings. His emotions were having a field day, responding too quickly to sensations aroused by a desirable woman. He was treading ground where he had never been before since he had never been emotionally attached to any other woman.

Love, or being in love, was an elusive perception for him. Not ever experiencing it, outside his family, he could not identify with those who had. Now, however, a deep consciousness awakened in him, and he debated on where he might be heading. Bella's life was highly unstable, as were her emotions.

She might be here today, gone tomorrow. Carlisle Mason had intimated she might have to flee again. If she did run away, how would that affect his life? Any relationship with her, no matter how mild, or serious, would be at risk from now on until the threat of her husband finding her was past. Would it ever be past, or would she be running the rest of her life?

She was married, and her situation prohibited her from obtaining a divorce. Was he prepared to involve himself in a difficult situation that could never contain the certainty of firm commitments?

"Damn, I've known her one day and already I'm like a lovesick teenager. What in the hell is wrong with me?" he said aloud to himself, feeling almost as confused as she probably was.

Despite his unrest with being a banker, Jasper could not imagine what it might be like, not having a firm foundation or footing beneath him. He was born into a family whose stability provided an ingrained steadfastness to his life, his livelihood, and his existence.

To be without that firm solidness and balance would acutely disrupt his serenity. Thus, the thought of where his present emotions might lead him was a disturbing notion. He could walk away right now and his life would go on as usual with a boring daily routine holding no surprises; or, he could continue seeing Bella, letting things move of their own accord, leaving everything to chance.

Hell, he thought all of a sudden, he should not even be debating such issues. Had his ordeal with the death of his parents robbed him of his risk-taking tendency? There was a time when he dared try anything that appealed to him, never thinking for one second about possible consequences.

Now, it seemed he could not take a single step without looking to see where his foot would fall.

After he arrived home, he brushed his teeth, and lowered himself to the firm springs of the mattress, soon tossing and turning. He could not get his mind off her. He had met and known her for one single day, and his emotions were racing like a disturbed bed of ants.

He kept seeing her in that long white satiny gown, it hugging her slender but shapely curves. He imagined she would probably sleep on her side, have her knees pulled up. Her thick long hair would spill about her head upon the pillow, framing the soft texture of the velvety smoothness of her face.

"Damn!" he swore, flinging himself off the bed, and going into the kitchen where he poured a hearty portion of bourbon in a glass. He downed it in one swallow, chasing its burning path with water. He went back to his bed, tossed and turned some more, but the strength of the alcohol had a settling effect upon his nerves, and soon he drifted off to sleep after remembering to set his alarm clock.


	16. Chapter 16

I don't own anything!

Chapter Fifteen

Jasper knocked on Bella's door, and stood waiting, realizing she probably was still sleeping, since she did not have a clock.

"Yes," her sleepy voice echoed softly through the door.

"Bella, it's me, Jasper." He waited through what seemed several minutes before he heard the sound of the night chain rattling and the lock turning just before the door opened. She stood before him in her long nightgown, her arms wrapped across her chest, her eyes looking clouded, not with sleep, but from lack of it.

"I couldn't find my robe," she muttered uneasily, a bit of paranoia gaining strength as she struggled up through the layers of tiredness to awareness.

Turning her back, she looked about the room, went and checked the bathroom, then came back to find Jasper holding her robe. He was smiling gingerly as he offered it to her, his eyes taking advantage of the opportunity to study the lovely sight claiming his gaze.

Her breasts pushed at the loose fabric of her gown, the nipples plump and ripe and creating tiny peaks behind the shimmering, satiny material. Her hipbones protruded slightly and the gown fell against a flat stomach. When she turned to one side to slide the robe over her shoulders and on her arms, he saw her shapely derriere, and was quickly reminded that the ironclad control of his sexual urges had lost its mastery. An abrupt hunger weighed heavily in his loins.

"Where did you find it?" she asked, and sighed with relief when he indicated a place beneath the coverlet on the bed. With her arms in the sleeves, she left the belt hanging loose, and the deep cleavage between her breasts awed him. The power of his awakening passion erupted like a sudden storm. He wanted her. He wanted her badly.

Going up to her, Jasper took her robe belt in both his hands and pulled her up against him.

"Good morning," he said, leaning closer to her face until his lips grazed hers. Then he covered her mouth with his when she started to reply. He had hoped last night's strong feelings were no more than an illusion that would have disappeared with today's early morning light.

When he touched his lips to hers, however, measuring her slow, uncoiling response, he knew this was no illusion. A shared fire had kindled between them. Their infatuation, attraction, or whatever the definition, was firmly in place. Jasper felt a sudden charge of adrenaline, his hormones kicking in, and his manhood growing rigid against her.

If she noticed, she wasn't fighting it, and he found himself backing her toward the bed until her legs touched the mattress. He lowered her, his breathing short and ragged.

His hands were already sliding off her robe, pushing the straps of her gown over her shoulders until delicate pink rosebuds sharpened his gaze as he watched them hardening before his eyes.

He lowered his mouth to one, his hand cupping the other, as he tasted that sweet bud. With senses charged by unabated yearning, his need drove him like a runaway vehicle.

His kisses deepened, his hand moving to secret places that prompted a need to know every infinite detail of Bella's body. Her response jarred his senses, leading him down a road that beckoned with heated longing. Her gown slid easily over her hips, down her legs until the only thing between them was his cumbersome clothing.

He began loosening his belt and the front of his pants, his hands moving with lightning speed. Then she began to tremble. It started in her shoulders, flowing like ripples down her entire body.

At first, Jasper wanted to believe it was passion. He continued touching her everywhere, kissing her, working into a heated frenzy of longing.

Then he saw her face. Her eyes stretched wide like a frightened little kid's, tears running from the corners. Although she made no move to stop what he was doing, he knew she was no longer enjoying it.

Some dark shadow had formed a cloud over her desire. His need shut down as quickly as a key turning off his car engine, and he rolled to her side, propping himself on an elbow to look at her.

"It's okay," he whispered, brushing her damp tear-stained hair from her cheeks. She turned her head away so he could not see the expression on her face anymore, but he had seen it already and knew something had disrupted the flow of white-hot passion witnessed in those first fiery embraces and smouldering caresses.

"I'm sorry, Jasper," she said several minutes later, staring up at the ceiling with the sheet covering her. "It has nothing to do with you. It is about me. I couldn't. I just couldn't." After experiencing so much sexual abuse, it was hard to let go to new desires.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked gently, his fingers cupping the nape of her neck, his thumb nuzzling the soft creamy smoothness of her throat.

"No," she said shaking her head, unable to tell him that all the horrible ordeals with Edward had flooded her brain at the instant she would have given herself to him.

"Then I tell you what, why don't you put on your jeans, and we'll go have breakfast. After that, we'll go to Bozeman and see about a car for you." He raised her up to a sitting position, and she wiped her eyes with her fingers.

While she was grabbing for her robe to cover herself, Jasper gained a delectable eyeful that warmed him instantly to pure sensuous delight. He gorged his eyes with the most superb round breasts ever, the pink rosebud nipples as enticing as any he had seen.

The fair skin like cream begged for the taste of his tongue and lips. He shuddered with longing.

Bella crawled off the bed, quickly donning her robe, but not before Jasper's eyes mentally photographed every inch of her. She possessed a glorious figure, and the curves, dips and peaks were wonderfully tempting.

With his eyes still mesmerized by her graceful figure and movements, he watched her walk to where her clothes hung on a hanger. She took the hanger, clothes and all, and went into the bathroom.

While she dressed, Jasper picked up the phone and called Mike Klaus.

"Hey, Mike, I'm going to be busy most of the day. How about opening the bank for me and keep an eye on things?"

"Sure thing, there isn't a problem, is there?" he queried.

"No, just some personal business I need to attend to," Jasper told him, and hung up. He sat pondering over what had just happened between Bella and him.

She had been so passionate and responsive, and then, in the flick of a moment, she shut down. He shook his head, crediting her reaction to the fact they barely knew each other.

He knew how some women clung to their morals, disavowing any desire for casual sex. Still, that had not seemed to be Bella's problem. She was passionate one moment, icy the next. As she expressed last night, there was much he did not know or understand about her.

When Bella stepped from the bathroom, she was in control again. She sent Jasper a timid smile. The tight little jeans outlined her lithe figure like a glove, and although dressed casual, she was breathtakingly beautiful.

Jasper's heart did a flip-flop in his chest as he recalled how he had kissed her, and touched every inch of her. The feeling of familiarity had him pulling her against him.

"I do like holding you," he admitted.

"I like it too," she whispered, draping her arms around his neck, and leaning her cheek against his hard, broad shoulder.

"Are you afraid of me, Bella?" he asked suddenly. She winced noticeably, and stiffened in his arms.

"No, I feel very safe with you. I'm just afraid of an involvement," she whispered softly, and although he was not ready to let it drop, he knew he would get nothing more from her on the subject. He also doubted her reason.

"Shall we go to breakfast?" he asked, unable to put aside the images of delectable pink nipples ripening like plump, tender rosebuds before his eyes.

Jasper caught a glimpse of doubt in her eyes as her hands slid from around his neck and down his chest. She backed away, her features taking on an expression of silent pondering.

"Breakfast? I don't know. Jasper, I don't think I can…" She paused, and was thoughtful a moment. "Just what is it you expect of me?"

"Doubts so soon? I am not going to ask you to do anything you are not comfortable doing. Does that answer your question?" She regarded him through deep introspection, finally saying,

"Intimacy frightens me for a number of reasons. But more importantly, I think I need to learn how to stand on my own two feet."

"I didn't know the two were related," he teased, his fingers touching the silky texture of her neck and throat. She inclined her head.

"What I mean is… I just don't want to become reliant upon you."

"And you won't. Now stop worrying and let's go have breakfast." He reached out his hand to her, and marvelled at the delicate soft fingers that intertwined with his.

Smiling a bit tensely up at him, her mood changed by degrees, and Jasper recalled a science reel with the time-release action of a flower's petals unfurling.

Alice invaded his pleasant images all of a sudden when he saw her car parked along the street when he neared the restaurant. He hoped her phone call last evening would end their relationship. He did not want to hurt her, but nothing between them was worth continuing. With her hot temper, she could cause unsettling problems.

Jasper was sadly mistaken if he thought things would end easily between him and Alice.

He and Bella had barely sat down and given their order, when Alice came hurtling through the door. She was dressed in a two-piece suit for her switchboard job at the police station, looking extremely smart in her heels, her hair twirled into a neat twist on the back of her head.

The speed, however, with which she moved, destroyed the effect of her nicely clad figure. She looked more like a mad dog ready to attack. Alice obviously saw Jasper's car outside, not to mention the fact she probably got wind of his and Bella's outing at the steak house last night.

He saw her coming, as did everyone else. He abruptly came to his feet, wanting to head her off before she got to his and Bella's table.

"Excuse me, Bella," he said quickly, his face losing its composure while he hurried toward a charging Alice who was hot for a confrontation. With no time to answer, Bella shot him a surprised glance, and watched him hurry past her.

"Damn you!" Bella heard a woman's voice at her back, and she turned just in time to see Jasper grab the woman's arm and usher her out the door.

After the shock passed, Bella's face must have turned a dozen different shades of red while people watched her reaction. Temporarily glued to her seat, she attempted to make sense from what just occurred.

An old flame, she decided, since he told her last night he was not married or attached—unless it was a lie. She sat there stiffly, undetermined as to what to do. From where she sat, she could see Jasper and the woman standing by his car, and although their words were not audible, it was blatantly apparent the woman was yelling at Jasper, shaking her fist at him, even trying to strike his face at one point until he grabbed her wrist.

With a little cowardly glance at some of the diners, Bella saw them smiling, and knew they were either enjoying her discomfort, or the spectacle the woman was causing outside.

She heard low voices, soft whispers, and knew she was part of their discussion. She could not stand the scrutiny any longer. She stood up and grabbed her purse just as the waitress hurried over to her.

"Don't go," the waitress said quietly. "He'll be back in a minute. That woman means nothing to him. She just wishes she did." Bella acknowledged the waitress with a glance, a heated flush of red warming her face.

Embarrassment and tears did battle with her self-control, and were quickly winning against her attempts to appear unaffected by the ordeal.

"No," she said, pushing past the waitress. "Thank you, but I really do have to leave." Her voice broke on the last couple of words, and she hurried out the door, blindly racing across the street to Angela's shop, hoping all the while that Jasper and the irate woman would not notice her.

Jasper had his back to the restaurant door and did not see Bella, but Alice did. Bella was no sooner inside Angela's shop, leaning breathlessly against the door, her eyes pooling with moisture, than the girl came after her.

Jasper, on the other hand, thinking Bella still waited for him in the restaurant, went back inside.

"What's the matter, Sweet pea?" Angela asked, noting a distraught young woman standing with her back to the door.

Suddenly the door burst open with heavy enough force to send Bella flying forward. She grabbed for the rack of clothing to keep from falling on her face. Angela knew immediately what was wrong. She had heard, as had everyone else, about Jasper's night out on the town last night. She quickly put herself between Alice and Bella.

"You filthy bitch!" Alice screeched at Bella, her arms and fists flailing as she tried to move past Angela. "Why don't you go find your own man and leave mine alone?" Her fist shook violently at Bella, and she reached around Angela trying to get in a punch. Angela kept the bulk of her body as a shield between them and warded off Alice's attack.

"That's enough, Alice! Get out of here," Angela shouted, backing her toward the door. Jasper came rushing in, his face terribly pale and chiselled like a solid granite mask of anger.

"Its okay, Jasper, Alice was just leaving." Angela's eyes shot daggers through her, and Alice knew she could not bully Angela. She backed off in retreat, but she was not finished with Bella. She raised both fists and shook them at Bella.

"You little red-headed whore, when I get the chance I'll tear your eyes out!" she threatened. Turning, she purposely rammed her shoulder into Jasper, nearly unbalancing him before going out the door. The only person who was not upset was Angela.

"Come here, Sweet pea," she said, going to Bella and wrapping her large arms about her. Her buxom chest offered a soft and comforting cushion for a tearful young woman's head.

Jasper held a rigid pose, feeling completely helpless and looking the part. Alice warned him yesterday evening. He should have known this would happen, and should have seen it coming.

God, he was stupid to have continued with Alice so long. He should have broken it off completely a long time ago. He could not ignore Alice's threat to Bella. Her temper was ripe enough to provoke her to just about anything.

What a circus, he thought, realizing how the grapevine was probably dancing to the tune of the gossipers. If that was not bad enough, there was Alice and her jealous ravings, targeting an innocent girl as her victim.

Angela gently moved Bella away from her comforting bosom and turned her toward the back of her store to the bathroom.

"Go in there, Sweet pea, and wash that pretty face of yours. It'll make you feel better."

Bella nodded her head, obeying like an obedient child, her shoulders drooping dejectedly. She felt terribly defeated, as if her life was without foundation or purpose. All she wanted to do was be alone where she could cry until no more tears were inside her.


End file.
